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The Not-for-Tourists Tour of the Quarter
A stroll through the French Quarter (or anywhere in town for that matter) is always made even more special because I see something there that most tourists either miss or perhaps even seek to avoid. That is, the friends I know from the center who I bump onto there. I went with my friend Roberta to get beignets and just chat away a lazy Sunday. First things first, I wait in line for the restroom at Cafe du Monde and sure enough run into Ralph, who informs me that he's working the ice cream stand and that I should stop by for some (free?) ice cream. After dousing ourselves in powdered sugar, we decide to take a little stroll of the Quarter. Music is playing, artists are displaying their work, performers are gathering crowds. Beneath the lofty shadow of St Louis Cathedral, I hear a voice call out in the darkness. It's Floyd. Are we open yet after the break-in? He asks. I assure him yes, and he sighs in relief and assures me I'll be seeing his laundry soon. On Bourbon Street, I'm surprised from behind by a man decked out in a brand new tux. Tony? Spruced up since last I saw him, he tells me that he got the job as a waiter at B's Bistro and is set to make the big bucks from the high-end prices and decadent tourists that frequent there. Way to go, Tony! Then, while strolling around the French Market idly parousing the art and knicknacks, I see a forlorn Caroline sitting quietly alone by the fountain. I say hello and instantly she brightens up. I get an earful of the hardship of her life, but my heart instantly melts when she wraps me in her big bear hug. Then, after a sno-cone and a little more chit-chat, Roberta and I made our way out of the quarter and back home.
The sights, sounds and tastes of the Quarter are always enjoyable for their own sake. But somehow I always leave with something a little extra special that money just can't buy.
Dan Thelen 2008-06-02
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