As Ed, my neighbor, will testify, I dislike parties. Ed has finally learned this. Ed no longer invites me to his parties. The first couple of times, I accepted his invitation, trying to be a good neighbor on my end. It never turned out well. Take it from this cranky Yankee, good fences make for good neighbors.
The streetcar, like everything in New Orleans, runs on New Orleans time, just like the bus.
Have you ever heard of this Corsican named Napoleon? He was Emperor of France at some point, probably when Edgar Degas was in Paris. There is always a new Orleans connection, no matter how farfetched. If something is probable, it is probably possible.
This is New Orleans.
I have been invited to a party. I am going to take the bus to get there and I am going to take the same bus home in the opposite direction. The bus runs both ways, coming and going. The bus I am going to take runs every 15 minutes, twenty-fours a day, too, to boot! It is very convenient.
I know it does not look like it but New Orleans is a real city. This is city living. It feels like home to me.
Laissez les bon temps rouler. A one way trip on the bus costs $1.25. A 24-hour pass costs $3.00. The pass is good for all buses, all streetcars, and the ferry. It is the best deal in the city. It is even better than the drink prices at the Abbey.
The Abbey has the lowest-priced drinks in the French Quarter. I know. It is a place where you can find me on off hours, when I am not at Aunt Tiki’s, or at the New Orleans Athletic Club.
It was outside the Abbey where I found a wig on the street.
I drove over it with my Vespa. It was Shugee’s wig. Frickin’ Shugee.
I am getting right back on the bus if Shugee is at this party I have been invited to.
The last time I was at a party with Shugee, it was at Hot Tin, that roof top bar on top of the Pontchartrain Hotel. I swear, Shugee has a brain the size of a plum pit.
Hot Tin the best rooftop locale in the city because, instead of looking at a sea of air conditioning units, you see trees and New Orleans’ street grid as far as the eye can see. If you squint, you can see Metairie.
It is always crowded at Hot Tin. That is why I dislike it there. That, and the last time I was there, I saw Shugee hawk a loogie into the punch bowl. Just thinking about those high society dames sipping that champagne, juice, and phlegm, it makes me want to upchuck. And—this was after Shugee put those prank ice cubes with flies in them in the punch.
If Shugee is at this party I am invited to, I am turning around. The bus runs every fifteen minutes.
Well, enough about that. Let us talk about something else behind the paywall, shall we?