February 5, 2021 - In the year 2000 my computer did not crash, nor did the world come to an end as was predicted by many people. However, I did visit the Crescent City in June for the very first time. I have lived within a four-hour drive but never felt the urge to actually visit the city until my daughter, Kay, called me with some news.
Her husband, Lester, was a pastor in Wyoming and was on the Wyoming Baptist Convention board. The Southern Baptist Convention was meeting in New Orleans in June at the Super Dome, and he had a part on one of the programs. Kay wanted to fly here and then drive down to New Orleans, meet Lester, and attend the convention. That sounded pretty good to me, so plans were made.
We located a motel room fairly close to the Super Dome and thus were able to attend the meetings, both afternoon and evening, as planned. On the last night of the convention, Kay announced that she wanted to take a walk through the French Quarter “just for the fun of it”. Most of my conception of the French Quarter had been formed by watching the crazy people celebrate Mardi Gras on television. I was somewhat reluctant to take the walk she wanted. But you know how dads and daughters usually end up in these things…dad concedes.
Amazingly, I found a parking spot right off Bourbon Street, and the four of us began our trek through the French Quarter. There were many interesting buildings, as well as strange people. I felt a little uncomfortable. Then Kay said, “I have always wanted to hear a live Dixie Land Band. You think there will be one down here?” Well, I opined that there probably would be one somewhere down the street. Then we heard some music wafting out of a bar ahead of us.
The four of us walked into the bar and sat down at a table in the back. The band was producing some good New Orleans music, which, I had to admit was pretty good. Shortly a young waitress appeared at our table, “May I take your order, please?” I told her that we were not ordering anything, just wanted to sit and listen to the band for a few minutes. She left.
Engrossed in the music, I did not notice the older woman accompanied by a rather large bald man walk up. The woman looked us over and said, “You will have to order something or leave.” Stunned, I ask her to repeat what she had just said, noting that the big man had inched closer to the table. “Well, you can’t occupy a table without ordering something. So, either order or leave.”
Wow ! I had never been thrown out of a bar before. So, we got up from the table and I told her, “Lady, we do not drink, but we have been thrown out of better bars than this one”, which was a lie. As we walked out on to the sidewalk, I told Kay, “Well, I guess you have a story here to tell your kids and grandkids. You got thrown out of a bar in New Orleans for not being drunk !”
We all decided that the French Quarter was not the place for us. I have no plans to ever return. I am sure I will be missed.
