It had rained all night, but the rain had ended, so I rode the riverfront streetcar down to the French Market, and then walked over to the Clover Grill on Bourbon Street for a breakfast. The place was really crowded, and I had to sit at the bar, but the breakfast was really good.
Back in the French Market, large crowds of tourists were shopping at the various vendor tables, and I found a Tommy Ridgeley CD there. Back on Decatur Street, I stopped at a praline shop and bought my mother a box of pralines (they also had peanut-butter dipped oreos, which were fabulous), and then I walked further up Decatur, but the clouds to the west were black and threatening, and soon, a blast of wind came sweeping down the street, blowing leaves and trash with it, and then the bottom fell out, with rain coming down in buckets. I ducked into the Cafe du Monde for a minute, but there were no empty tables of course, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. I finally grew tired of waiting, and decided to run across Jackson Square to the Jax Brewery, which left me drenched to the bone, and I hadn’t realized that the Jackson Brewery Mall had no awnings over the sidewalk, so even there, I was getting soaked.
I finally made it back to the hotel and conference, and then decided to take my car out of the parking garage and drive to Domilise’s for lunch, since it would be the last day I could. In the Uptown neighborhood, it wasn’t raining, but finding a place to park on Annunciation was difficult, and I soon found it was all because of Domilise’s. There was literally a line out the door as I walked up to the entrance, but once I got inside, things were moving with military precision, as loaves of french bread were cut, shrimp and oysters were fried, roast beef was sliced, condiments were added. The interior of the cafe probably hadn’t changed since the 70’s, with advertisements for Dixie Beer and Jax Beer (Jax had closed in 1972 I think), and they still served the mandatory Barq’s root beer in the brown bottles so familiar to me from childhood summers in Gulfport. (Back then, every grocery or po-boy joint I recall had the familiar blue-and-orange sign with the unassuming slogan “Drink Barq’s-It’sGood.”) Domilise’s po-boys truly were the ultimate, even if the menu prices were starting to reflect their fame a little bit.
After lunch, I drove back to the hotel for the last networking conference opportunities, and then headed out to an event at Tipitina’s that was supposed to feature brass bands, or so I thought. Actually the event turned out to be a festival of high school bands, and as I sat in Professor Longhair Park across the street from the club, the police blocked off the street and neighborhood kids started showing up, with drumsticks in hand, praticing on lightpoles and brick walls, a phenomenon I haven’t seen anywhere else. The bands that came were from Warren Easton, McDonough 35, and St. Augustine high schools, all Black, inner-city bands, but a good crowd of whites and Blacks showed up to support them, and apparently the event was to celebrate the arrival of new instruments that had been given them by the Tipitina’s Foundation. Altogether it was an enjoyable event, but about midway through it, it began to rain, scattered drops at first, then more steady, and finally heavy enough that I retreated to my car and headed back toward the French Quarter. However, I needed gasoline, and finding an Exxon in New Orleans proved to be difficult. I finally found one open across from Lee Circle, just across from a brilliant, rainbow-colored hotel called Le Cirque, which I photographed.
Then, parking in the outdoor lot across from my hotel, I walked to Landry’s Seafood House and ate redfish pontchartrain for dinner. Next door at Peaches Records & Tapes, there had been a rap showcase for the Cutting Edge music conference, but it had already broken up when I got there. I really had wanted to hear a brass band performance, but, aside from the Rebirth playing at Tipitina’s, which I figured would be expensive, there didn’t seem to be much going on. I decided against going to the Cafe du Monde, and headed back to the room instead. New Orleans was playing the Houston Texans at the Superdome, and there was a volley of gunshots outside of the hotel which sent security scrambling, but nobody could ever figure out who was shooting or why. It must not have been very serious, because the police never came. (August 16, 2008)