Good morning, people! Everything is done. I think. No, I'm pretty sure it is. Whatever isn't, won't be, so let's just concentrate on the task at hand - IT'S JAZZ FEST TIME, BABY! Our afternoon flight from Hartford gets us into Louis Armstrong Int'l Airport around six, where Garland (you remember Garland, the best Fest driver you'll ever have!) will meet us for the drive into town with fried chicken and beer!
We'll have the usual cast of characters: the ever-obnoxious Pool Hall Studs, the Shoe Ladies and their extensive entourage, Mark & Lisa from Jersey with friends Kenny/Kippy (aka Maureen) from Cali, maybe even a Scarlett O'Hara sighting. And new characters join us all the time. Notably absent will be the iconic Jazz Fest character Johnny Gumbo (a brief, tasteless ceremony will be held on Piano Shirt Friday, possibly at Lucy's Retired Surfers Bar, to acknowledge his passing), but Peter is joining us to lend some dignity in his stead (this is not necessarily a commentary on Peter, just about anyone would be a dignity upgrade). Gumbo, as you followers may know, sleeps in the nude; I will not miss the daily early morning view of "a bad moon a-rising" from across the room. Just kidding, Big Guy, wherever you are, don't go around tonight, it's bound to take your life, there's a bathroom on the right.
So, join us, won't you? Our culinary theme this year is diners, drive-ins and dives. We've got some preliminary ideas, but we're always open to suggestions (hit us in the comments). And, in an effort to be more efficient with the photos and short, up-to-the-minute shit, I'll be posting some stuff on Twitter, so check it out there, too. But most importantly, wish us luck - we'll need it! See you there!