Our second day at the Fest starts out with a trip up to Lucy's to discuss strategy. Gumbo wants to get out early enough to see Keith Richards. Really? Yeah, if he falls out of a tree, because it's ZACHARY Richards, you knucklehead (to quote a famous Larry). I'd like to see Courtney Bryan in the WWOZ Jazz Tent. Doesn't happen, we don't get out until the Dr. John set at 3:15. Always a good choice. I stay for a half-hour of Bon Jovi (hey, they were good) before heading over to the Jazz Tent for the Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool tribute featuring original session drummer Jimmy Cobb. Very good. To top things off, we stand to the back of the Blues Tent for a taste of John Mayall.
We're beat, so we opt for dinner at Mother's, a legendary spot across Poydras from our hotel. The lines are usually long, but we get through in reasonably short order. I order the Pool Hall Studs, Gumbo and I order our po-boys & Abitas, pay and wait. Now it gets ugly. We wait some more. Finally, the PHS get their orders, but what about us? No sympathy from them as they stuff their faces full. Gumbo is fuming. It's getting personal. A waitress comes over and tells us, "I asked about your order but they said they didn't know." Then she takes off. "God dammit," cries out Gumbo in his best Patrick Swayze/Dirty Dancing voice, bewildering at least three nearby tables, "They're going to pay for this. Nobody does this to Gumbo (at least he didn't say 'nobody puts Gumbo in the corner')."
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