I should be in New Orleans right now, but instead I'm sitting at home counting down the clock until I have to head out and do something in the outside world.
My friends invited my along to their weekend away from Austin to take New Orleans by storm and enjoy the city. It would have been my second visit to the town. I unfortunately did not get my day off request approved because two others had already gotten their own requests approved and that brought the team to a number that left us backlogged all day long.
Yes, work did stink this week, and I am so glad I'm not there right now.
The last time I visited New Orleans was when we decided to head out on a Saturday night and spend some time through the week there. I car pooled with my friend Seth, his wife, and my friend Emory. We hit the road after I got done with my serving shift and traveled the dark road throughout the night. 55 took us all the way there, and there were some interesting side trips that were seen.
Late night White Castle, late night gas stations that looked run down and barely open. I swear that one of the gas stations was recently re-opened after being abandoned for months, and the only update they made was hanging an open sign up. I've never seen bathroom graffiti so dark and outright hateful.
I think I stayed up for all of the drive save for some nodding in and out. Seth drove the whole time. As we went down the highway and the sun was rising, I remember seeing a deer walk on to the road after we passed it, and a fox hanging around the side of the road.
I think we headed out when we first got there. I don't remember because sleep wasn't happening for me. But the sites and sounds, and the tales of drunken tomfoolery. I realize that these tales of drunken times are about as interesting as hearing someone describe a dream, but I'm going to get to some of the highlights.
It really was the first time I woke up and someone shoved a beer in my face. The idea of drinks in the morning wasn't sitting with me, but that is what the event called for. I will say that I had a hangover on that first day, and it was terrible.
For some idiotic reason, I decided that wearing sunglasses at night would be the way to go. Yeah, I was stupid.
There was some good food had. I did try a bunch of seafood, something that I didn't eat much of. Call me weird, but if it came in from the sea and was frozen then I don't want it. Give me the fresh stuff. This was pre-oil spill in the city, so I ate a lot of good food. Crawfish poboys, oysters, and other delights sizzled my taste buds. As did Arby's. For some reason, that made a good hangover breakfast. Hey, I wasn't that smart years ago, but roast beef in the morning was delightful.
We did Bourbon street and hung out at some of the oldest bars in the country. Bars that were only lit up by candlelight and only took cash. There was one bar we went to and they only served good beer. As in, if you ordered bud light or miller, they would refuse to serve you. I was obviously drunk when trying to order, and the bartender clearly wanted nothing to do with me when I tried to order something domestic. It was like being served by a hipster before hipsters were a thing.
I got to see the Mississippi river and watch the waters a bit. We walked around to the area near our hotel and walked down neighborhood streets. I sat on a trolley and had some fantastic foods at cafes everywhere.
If I'm jealous about anything with my friends there now and me not being there, it is that I can't enjoy the food that is everywhere that oozes deliciousness. The drinking would have gotten out of hand, and my wallet really wouldn't like me. So instead I'll hang around this town and be envious of all the photos and videos that I'm seeing them upload.
From the back of my head to the tips of my fingers. These are words of a life being lived.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Saturday, September 3, 2016
On Her Birthday, I Will Watch The Cubs
For all the wrong reasons, I remember the first time I met Mark Elder, one of the salesmen for Gaggle at the time.
I was driving the Daewoo at the time, and I was in the middle of dropping him off at a hotel that was literally down the road from where I lived. He hopped out of the car at the same time that my mother was calling me. I looked at the phone, and being the bad driver at the time, answered the call as Mark got out of the car. I was pulling away from the hotel entrance as my mom was on the other end of the line telling me that my grandmother had passed away. My grandmother lived literally one block away, closer to me than the hotel was.
I don't remember the rest of that call, but I do remember calling my ex and telling her what had happened. She was shocked and said she was sorry, and I told her that I wouldn't be home right away, that I was going to her apartment. I think she offered to also be there, but I said no.
I parked across the street from her apartment, a little two bedroom place where she had one bedroom entirely devoted to baseball cards. Floor to ceiling, shelf upon shelf, there stood a huge collection. She loved to organize and collect them. I parked across the street and proceeded to her front door.
Her front door was open, save for the closed screen door. There was a police officer on the other side, and as I approached, he looked like he didn't know what to do. He halfway opened the screen door, and I believe he thought I was someone else that they were expecting. I opened the door and....
My grandmother had died from cardiac arrest, as they would find out later on. She was there in her night clothes, had the attack, and fell face forward. It had been some time between that happening and my aunt Barb checking on her only to find out the bad news first.
The last time I saw my grandmother alive is something that, thankfully, still sits in my mind. I had gone over with the ex after a night of working, so I was still in my restaurant clothes. It must have been a weekend night. We were all sitting there as she was going through the collection of baseball cards that she had recently bought after saving up some money for a few months. She was organizing them while sitting on her couch. Me and the ex were sitting around and just shooting the shit with her. It became time to go, and I remember my grandmother offering me a lass of wine or anything to drink. I declined. This is one of those moments that if I had a time machine, I would go back, have that glass of wine, and enjoy the night away.
Not knowing the future, I declined that glass of white zinfandel.
I went over to the couch to hug her and say good bye. She looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. I noted then that they looked like they were crying. I look back at it and with the knowledge of the future, I wonder if she knew this would be the last time I saw her. The story teller in me says that she did, the realist in me knows that she was sad I was leaving.
The next time that I opened the door to her place, she was face down with her head nearest to the door. Almost as if she stood up from where she was at where I last saw her and she fell towards the door.
I took a deep breath in. I saw the shocked faces of the other officer that was in the room and the coroner that was looking over the scene. Obviously, I should 't have been there. I don't know what was said, but basically the coroner had apologized and I went to sit in the back of a police car with an officer. Having not been in this position before, it was rather interesting. The officer joked with me a bit about the baseball card collection, and we both wondered if that year or the next would be it for the Cubs. The Cubs were the number one team that my grandmother loved, and she taught me that love from a young age that I still carry to this day, despite growing up right outside of the St, Louis area.
The coroner came in to the car, apologized again about me being at the scene when it was something that I shouldn't have seen. I waived the apology off and thanked her and the officer for being there and for what they have done. After that, I don't remember much. I know that I went home and ate something. I remember, vaguely, talking to the ex about what happened. I didn't take off work the next few days. I didn't cry much at all. I would spend the next couple of days with family as a new drama unfolded with an aunt in Seattle, which on reflection showed me that some family can be so fickle and so bitchy.
She kept crossword puzzles for me, shared her love of the Cubs with me, and I know held me close in her thoughts. The feelings of regret and not seeing her more often or not spending time that final night with her only ring so much in my memory because she is not here anymore.
I know when the Cubs win the world series I will raise a glass in her memory. I have a ton of memories with her, each one held close in my heart and mind. Between holidays and time just enjoying an afternoon baseball game, I'll always have those times. She was my Granny.
I was driving the Daewoo at the time, and I was in the middle of dropping him off at a hotel that was literally down the road from where I lived. He hopped out of the car at the same time that my mother was calling me. I looked at the phone, and being the bad driver at the time, answered the call as Mark got out of the car. I was pulling away from the hotel entrance as my mom was on the other end of the line telling me that my grandmother had passed away. My grandmother lived literally one block away, closer to me than the hotel was.
I don't remember the rest of that call, but I do remember calling my ex and telling her what had happened. She was shocked and said she was sorry, and I told her that I wouldn't be home right away, that I was going to her apartment. I think she offered to also be there, but I said no.
I parked across the street from her apartment, a little two bedroom place where she had one bedroom entirely devoted to baseball cards. Floor to ceiling, shelf upon shelf, there stood a huge collection. She loved to organize and collect them. I parked across the street and proceeded to her front door.
Her front door was open, save for the closed screen door. There was a police officer on the other side, and as I approached, he looked like he didn't know what to do. He halfway opened the screen door, and I believe he thought I was someone else that they were expecting. I opened the door and....
My grandmother had died from cardiac arrest, as they would find out later on. She was there in her night clothes, had the attack, and fell face forward. It had been some time between that happening and my aunt Barb checking on her only to find out the bad news first.
The last time I saw my grandmother alive is something that, thankfully, still sits in my mind. I had gone over with the ex after a night of working, so I was still in my restaurant clothes. It must have been a weekend night. We were all sitting there as she was going through the collection of baseball cards that she had recently bought after saving up some money for a few months. She was organizing them while sitting on her couch. Me and the ex were sitting around and just shooting the shit with her. It became time to go, and I remember my grandmother offering me a lass of wine or anything to drink. I declined. This is one of those moments that if I had a time machine, I would go back, have that glass of wine, and enjoy the night away.
Not knowing the future, I declined that glass of white zinfandel.
I went over to the couch to hug her and say good bye. She looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. I noted then that they looked like they were crying. I look back at it and with the knowledge of the future, I wonder if she knew this would be the last time I saw her. The story teller in me says that she did, the realist in me knows that she was sad I was leaving.
The next time that I opened the door to her place, she was face down with her head nearest to the door. Almost as if she stood up from where she was at where I last saw her and she fell towards the door.
I took a deep breath in. I saw the shocked faces of the other officer that was in the room and the coroner that was looking over the scene. Obviously, I should 't have been there. I don't know what was said, but basically the coroner had apologized and I went to sit in the back of a police car with an officer. Having not been in this position before, it was rather interesting. The officer joked with me a bit about the baseball card collection, and we both wondered if that year or the next would be it for the Cubs. The Cubs were the number one team that my grandmother loved, and she taught me that love from a young age that I still carry to this day, despite growing up right outside of the St, Louis area.
The coroner came in to the car, apologized again about me being at the scene when it was something that I shouldn't have seen. I waived the apology off and thanked her and the officer for being there and for what they have done. After that, I don't remember much. I know that I went home and ate something. I remember, vaguely, talking to the ex about what happened. I didn't take off work the next few days. I didn't cry much at all. I would spend the next couple of days with family as a new drama unfolded with an aunt in Seattle, which on reflection showed me that some family can be so fickle and so bitchy.
She kept crossword puzzles for me, shared her love of the Cubs with me, and I know held me close in her thoughts. The feelings of regret and not seeing her more often or not spending time that final night with her only ring so much in my memory because she is not here anymore.
I know when the Cubs win the world series I will raise a glass in her memory. I have a ton of memories with her, each one held close in my heart and mind. Between holidays and time just enjoying an afternoon baseball game, I'll always have those times. She was my Granny.
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