Fig Schnapps and Then Some.

I am sorry I’m late. Vincent. Vincent and Mrs. King. Vincent and Mrs. King and me, your humble narrator. There has been more than enough said about that today. I know what there. It will take too long to tell you all about it.

This really is all one story. Every life is.

Bratz Y’all has the best German food in New Orleans, maybe the best German food outside of New Braunfels, Texas. The owner is German—-the real kind. Mrs. King tells me he is a Berliner. I can’t understand a word they say to each other.

Flamküchen is not German pizza, no matter what they at Deutsches Haus.

Deutsches Haus, which I like to visit on Sundays, is the German-American club on Bayou Saint John. Deutsches Haus is on Moss Street on the grounds of the old Confederate veterans home, Camp Nicholls. Deutsches Haus is between St. Louis Cemetery No. 3 and the bayou. Some people arrive by pirogue.

Anyhow, Vincent, Mrs. King, and I, your humble narrator, we all had flamküchen and pretzels and radish cheese and beer and fig schnapps at Bratz Y’all on Piety Street. What a good time out in the beer garden, that sure was. Time is never frittered away when it makes good memories.

Time is never wasted when it yields opportunities. Every day in New Orleans is a new one.

The Pet Shop Boys are on the radio. “You’ve got the looks, I’ve got the brains. Let’s make lots of money.”

Where was I?