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Cheryl - April 21, 1998 |
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Cheryl - April 21, 1998 |
| We were the first to arrive from out of town, and nearly the last to leave. | |
 Nowhere near Disneyland: Jackson Square and Saint Louis Cathedral, New Orleans | |
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, okay, so we got there in the afternoon, and it only drizzled that day. By the time we met our first fellow Epiconner (Crossbow) the following afternoon, we'd already mastered the St. Charles Streetcar, found the French Quarter, and begun a serious game of phone tag with TOGA that seemed to last through far more of the weekend than any of us expected.
After the after dinner mints, we streetcarred up to Cooter Brown's for beer and oysters (except Wayne and I had neither). Paladin welcomed all comers on the pool table (hmm...that doesn't quite sound like what I meant), even beating Jas, who brought his own pool cue. Ella spotted Alan "The ROAR" Heitz in his Ice House commercial and screamed (uh, that was a compliment, Alan, I'm sure). Ri and Chip compared notes on sex (and encouraged the rest of us to join in). Wayne and Victor argued about basketball (considering Wayne doesn't follow any sport, I'm not sure why he got involved in that one!). #20 showed all of us his Burning Man book, which I found fascinating from a creative point of view, but not from a potential thing-to-do perspective. He had better luck convincing Jen-Jen and Meloney. Eventually, those of us who'd had enough went back to the hotel, while the young and restless moved the party on to #20's house for Jell-O shots and who knows what else (we were willing to imagine all sorts of things, though!). The weekend quickly settled into a sort of routine for us: continental breakfast in the Tea Room, hang out waiting for everyone to gather at the Columns, compare bedtimes from the night before, discuss what sounds interesting to do, and head for the French Quarter. Saturday, we managed to find the coldest balcony in the French Quarter to sit on while having lunch. This lunch was the setting for Jen's famous "Quit hitting my knee with your Tigger!" line, as well as a stunning rendition of the a.c. dance, performed by the same Tigger. Tigger was bouncy, trouncy, fun-fun-fun-fun all over the balcony (and almost off the balcony). This was also the meal where we learned that Ice House is an import beer, as Crossbow continued his search for MGD. That afternoon, Wayne and I slipped back to the hotel with the intention of checking to see if Meloney had arrived and sneaking off to the flower show that happened to be on that weekend. (Coincidence? You be the judge!) While checking for messages, we were bowled over by a blond whirlwind that blew out of the bar, she was so excited to see someone she knew! Meloney was so desperate for company, she decided to join us for the flower show (she insists that she likes flowers, too, actually, and I choose to believe that she came of her own free will). Over at City Park, we wandered through the exhibits for forty-five minutes before they closed, which was just enough time to see most of the flowers, ask an entomologist about some strange grubs I keep digging up in my back yard, eat honey drizzled into salty Bugles crackers (um...interesting blend of flavors), and collect a few bugs and vermin to share with our friends. Um, *plastic* vermin. Really. Back at the hotel once again, the crowd gathered before heading back down the streetcar line to the French Quarter for dinner at the Crescent City Brewhouse. Those of us who traveled via streetcar arrived on time (barely!), but Chip and Griffin certainly took a long time to park... One would think a brewhouse would make sure its restrooms were somewhat close to its patrons, instead of through the serving area, down a hall, up the stairs, down another hall, and around a corner or two. Crossbow actually found some other beer he liked besides MGD. Koolblu had her first chocolate fix in days. Tigger was kidnapped and stabbed before Ri got him back unharmed. After dinner, one group of Epiconners prowled the streets of the French Quarter in search of daquiris and other beverages, while the rest of us retired to the upper balcony of the Columns to talk of life and Paladin's margaritas. The next morning brought stories of unslept-in beds of the French Quarter crew and sordid shoe-touching tales. After saying goodbye to Griffin and DJDave, who were anticipating the 16-hour drive back to Virginia, the rumor-mongering continued at breakfast at Rick's, where the waitress wasn't really sure she could handle a group as big as ours, and where Chip's infamous Forbeeden dance was at last captured on video. It's still better in person, particularly as the narration was lost in laughter over much of it. After breakfast, some of us who weren't leaving until later decided to go once again to the French Quarter, this time to do some shopping. We found beads for a.c. and buttons for Tallulah, Victor, and Reese. We discovered Crossbow was born to wear a jester's cap. I even did my infamous chicken impression in an art gallery and got Jas to reluctantly play along. Meloney had her palm read at Madame Levieux, after a few sets of shooters with koolblu and Paladin. We all got back in time to say goodbye to Paladin and everyone else leaving that evening (including Chip and #20, who were going home to sleep), then eight of us (Grandma, Crossbow, Jas, Ella, koolblu, songbyrd, Wayne and I) trooped back down to the French Quarter for dinner at Napoleon's. Except Napoleon's closes at 6:00 p.m. on Sunday night. Okay, plan B: Pere Antoine's, where Wayne and I ate our first night in New Orleans. The waiter, Greg, certainly livened up the dinner, though we did okay on our own, thinking of Epicon trivia with which to stump the board. About midnight, we left the streetcar for the last time, and headed to the Columns. We nearly made it, too...but then Grandma tripped on a tree root. Her fingers looked rather strange, so we ignored her protests ("I'll just push them back into place") and walked across the street to the conveniently located St. Charles General Hospital. Two and a half hours, one HBO movie, and two splints later, we left with a diagnosis of two broken fingers and a promise from Grandma that she'd return for an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. By the way, Pentagon Wars is a good movie. I don't recommend seeing it as the hospital midnight movie in a cold waiting room, though. The next morning, the only Epiconner we saw was Grandma, who was waiting for her appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. She was planning to stand up for herself and make sure she didn't miss her plane that afternoon; from the message she left on the board, I guess the doctor wouldn't let her go. Meanwhile, we spent the day at the Audobon Zoo before flying home Monday evening. Cheryl |
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