Down South...Day Sixteen...Tuesday, December 15, 2009...Easing Into the "Big Easy"

I'm up early again...just at daybreak. Looking out my hotel room window, I can see that it is still raining. Last night, when I went to bed, I made another "executive decision"...instead of spending a night in Baton Rouge, I'm going to press right on to New Orleans. I call my hotel in New Orleans, and they agree to add Tuesday to my stay at a very reasonable price...so...I'm in.
Meanwhile, down in the hotel lobby, it looks like the set of the TV show, "Cops". There are four police cruisers parked out in front, and the lobby is crawling with patrolmen. Somebody can't pay their bill and won't leave their room...not exactly a smart move. I go back to my room to pack up and, by the time I return to check out, the situation has been resolved...one way or the other.
Now I'm on the road for a short trip to the town of Henderson for lunch at a nice seafood restaurant, Robin's. Robin's, however, is no longer open for lunch, so I have to switch to "Plan B". A little farther down the road is Pat's Seafood...the place where I ate my very first crawfish some twenty-five years or so ago. Pretty soon, I'm sitting at the bar chatting up the owner/manager and his wife with stories of my previous visits there. I put myself completely in their hands..."just bring me whatever is good". A cup of crawfish bisque...excellent, a platter of fried crawfish and fried oysters...also excellent. And, finally, a big piece of pecan pie...I'm so full I can hardly walk.
I'm joined at lunch by a cute gal, Tracy. She works on behalf of the Gulf fishing fleet to lobby the various gulf states to modernize their rules and regulations to improve sustainability and profitability. It sounds like a fun job that allows her to travel to little fishing hamlets all over the gulf...and dine at some great little spots along the way.
Where there's fish, there's usually cats...and, on my way out, there's a furry little guy sleeping on top of the owner's vehicle. Then...I'm back on the road...still raining. It's slow going, and I don't make it to my hotel in New Orleans until after 6:00PM. At precisely 6:20PM, I am parked in my favorite seat at Acme Oyster House enjoying the first of three dozen on the half-shell served by my favorite "shucker", Norman. Norman and I go back twenty years or so, and he always recognizes me as soon as I walk in. The "twenty" that I slip him each time probably helps with the recognition factor. A dozen "charbroiled" oysters, and I'm stuffed again.
To work off that dinner, I walk up and down Bourbon Street...drunken kids, street-walkers, street-hustlers, meth addicts, farm couples from Iowa, men and women in business suits, t-girls...they're all part of the "culture" of the French Quarter...there's nothing like it anywhere else in this country. I stop in to a few of my favorite spots for a few beers...soon, it's close to midnight. Time for bed...I've only got three more days/nights here...and there are a LOT of dining stops to make.