Lunch at the airport, but mistake in having a Two Roads draft. I think you know why. Mark does, as I need to climb over him on the plane to go to the head. I get a text from Terrie, of the infamous Shoe Ladies, welcoming us to New Orleans. Unfortunately, we are in Tampa, waiting on our flight to Nola. The Shoe Ladies entourage, which ranges anywhere from 3 or 4 up to a dozen, has assembled from all parts of the continent - Florida, Toronto, British Columbia - since Tuesday. They set up their command post down in the Quarter at the same hotel, same suite each year (except that one year where Jon Bon Jovi and his crew pulled rank- those were some seriously pissed off Shoe Ladies). They are dining tonight at the Square Root on Magazine.
We finally land at Louis Armstrong Airport, where we would normally be greeted by longtime transportation guru Garland, no waiting, spicy fried chicken up front and ice cold beer in the back for our 20 minute trip into the city. But, as George Harrison once albumed, all things must pass, and Garland has moved on to other ventures. Not to worry, we quickly get a cab and are in our Staybridge Suites luxury suite (hey, how come I always get the fucking pullout couch!) right across from Mother's. I won't go all Arlo Guthrie on you and tell you about the Johnny Gumbo/Mother's feud in three-part harmony and pictures with circles and arrows on the back. You can look it up.
We had some contact with the New Jersey contingent (Mark, Lisa, Kenny, Kip et al) about meeting for dinner, but it was decided that we were arriving too late for that. We'll see them out at the Fairgrounds tomorrow. We cab up Magazine Street (hey, there are the Shoe Ladies in the window of Square Root!) to the Bouligny Tavern, where we set up at the bar. Lots of small plates are ordered/shared, all good, several outstanding. We text Terrie that we are are the street and they are welcome to join us for a drink, but she informs us that they have moved on to the bar at The Roosevelt and that we, rather than they, need to make the move because "the gentlemen are not wearing heels." Well, I guess Terrie doesn't know the Pool Hall Studs well, but that's a story for another time.
Sufficiently stocked with food and drink, we leave Bouligny Tavern and head over to The Roosevelt for the reunion. Hugs, laughter, tears, etc., a couple rounds of drinks and catching up, photo op (see below). Welcome to Jazz Fest 2015!
 |
| With Shoe Ladies at Roosevelt |
