I went into a bar today (as shocking as that is to so many) to have lunch. This place is within easy walking distance of our house and used to be a regular hangout — but it seemed to be evolving into a place a bit more negative so I’d been avoiding it except to use the ATM or make some other small purchase. Over the past six months, my total expenditures in the place wouldn’t buy enough gasoline to get to Slidell (though that’s no small feat anymore).

Anyway, I drive by and see the kitchen staff hanging around outside and it’s a veteran crew. I glance in the door and there’s virtually nobody there, so I figure now’s a good time to sit down and give the place another chance. Maybe I’m wrong, y’know? Local place, local dollars, we’re all in this together, yadda yadda.

So I sit down at the bar and order a sandwich and a Barq’s and I’m watching a little baseball and some guy walks in off the street and IMMEDIATELY (like, first glance) tells some guy at the end of the bar he “don’t wanna hear it” and these two yahoos get into a shouting and shoving match. In like, oh, 12 seconds. The barkeep says he doesn’t want this kinda crap in his bar so he tosses one of them and order is restored. About this time my food arrives and I really, REALLY don’t want to wait for Tossed Guy to show back up (and you know he will) to resume this argument. So I ask for a box and walk back to the house with my food and the remainder of the Barq’s.

I get back to the house and open the food and it is, in a word, horrible. And this from a place that’s been featured (deservedly, in the past) in some national publications for its food and atmosphere.

Our city these days has too many such places, events and, in so many cases, people — that we used to trust because they used to be solid and reliable. And they still are, at least to those who have been away or don’t get back as much as they’d like or who prefer to see things through yesterday’s eyes. But they’ve become weak facsimilies of their old selves — surviving on reputation instead of reality. I could list them, but that would only spur needless argument and it would be a subjective list anyway.

New Orleans is, thankfully, a sum of its traditions. It’s one of the main reasons I live here. But it bothers me when there’s too much looking back. In our case, too often, hindsight is far from 20/20. Simple physical myopia is correctible — but I fear our social and cultural near-sightedness could be deadly if we let it.

The other day the baby and I went way up St. Charles to Danneel Park. We had passed by the park a few times before on our way to other locations but this time we made a special trip just to go to the park. Danneel Park is at the corner of St. Charles and Octavia Streets. There are three different “Jungle Jims” in the park as well as a fire engine and a slide that I had heard used to be part of a jump into a sand pit? Behind all the play sets along Octavia the park opens up into a grassy field for running and playing. For those geocachers in the audience there is a cache in the park as well. Some of the park is fenced in and some is not so you have to be careful since the street is very close. It seems once they start walking it only takes a second for them to reach the edge of the road.

It was great having a play set just for really little ones, the baby could climb up there all by himself all he needed was a spotter and that is of course one of a Parent’s many hats. We also spent a good bit of time “driving” the fire truck, see driving the fire engine While we were at the park four or five families came and went, it is definitely a park that gets used but even so it is clean and the equipment is in good repair.

On the way out of the park I stopped to read the wood sign and stone marker near the front fence. The sign stated the usual park rules and list of officials that sit in plush chairs in big offices and signed the papers to help keep this spot a park under NORD (New Orleans Recreation Department). The stone marker is carved with two names and a date, Hermann Danneel, his wife Maria Louisa Grace and 1906. This I could not let lie I needed the story so when I arrived home I did a little searching and this is what I found.
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Hello, I’m Craig and I own a business that is boosted by Jazzfest. That is to say my emporium is one that folks from out of town come to enjoy and partronize. And when I say patronize, I truly mean it — in a “yew are jest the kahYEWTest thang in yer apron an’ with yer hat an’….” etc etc.

Please do not misunderstand. Those of us who live in New Orleans are grateful for every dollar brought to us. I’d estimate fully 85% of the folks who are in town this week are wonderful, helpful, tasteful and otherwise affable folks just here to enjoy the music, food and general ambiance that is New Orleans. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Seriously.

To the other 15% — please put on normal clothing, shut up and go the hell home. Right now. Thank you.

Our place has been fortunate enough this week to host visitors from Hawaii, Sweden, Great Britain, Germany, several Asian nations and a long list of various US states and Canadian provinces. Happy words have been exchanged all around and business cards passed back and forth and laughter traded and all that. It’s great. It really is.

….but please spare me from the oversized, Hawaiian shirt, Jesus-sandal, floppy-hat-and-cargo-short-wearing Baby Huey type (why do their wives always dress in this thing that looks like a baby’s onesie without the crotch snaps? Maybe they DO have crotch snaps. I’m afraid to look). We had a table of them this morning — and I wisely offered to run some errands instead of hanging around and telling them what I REALLY thought….

When you order a “dressed” burger, baby, it includes “all that crap.” And when you order a higher-priced, special burger, it includes even more crap (which is listed on the menu). Sending it back to have us remove crap makes us want to put crap on it that you REALLY don’t want. Seriously.

I got a delivery of fresh produce this morning. I had some myself and it was very good. So, baby, don’t tell me this lettuce is “a little past its prime.” So are you. Big-time.

This is a made-to-order meal for five people. It took 14 minutes to come to your table. If that’s not fast enough, St. Charles Ave. has a McDonald’s, a Burger King and a Wendy’s. Taste the New Orleans food tradition up there. Or, better still, stand in line for 30 minutes at JazzFest to get flaccid facsimilies of what had (maybe) been good food four hours ago. And enjoy it with the real Louisiana flavor of a lukewarm Bud Light.

Okay. Rant over. It’s just been a long day.

We truly are thankful for our visitors over the past couple of weeks. And, even for that 15% who negatively stand out, we’re grateful for giving us something to talk about and stereotype until next year. Really.

But damn.

Since adding the baby to our little family we have been searching the city for a new type of restaurant. We used to be looking for a bar with food somewhere with drinks and a good menu or damn good drinks and an ok menu either way we were not concerned so much with the atmosphere. As long as we did not feel as though we might leave the place with blood spatters on our clothes (though that can make for one hell of a story) we were pretty much good to go. Now however things have changed just a bit. The places we frequent for food and drink must be kid friendly. They don’t have to be kid oriented like Chuck E. Cheese but they need to at the least allow children through the doors. They get double points if they actually have high chairs in stock.

Finding these places in a city known for its drunken debauchery can be a little challenging. Ok maybe debauchery is a little far but New Orleans certainly hasn’t been known for its kid friendly aspects. That being said I also find a lack of high chairs in restaurants. We live in the Marigny and sure there are actually quite a few restaurants that we can even walk to that will allow the baby inside but if they don’t have a high chair then it is a logistical challenge to enjoy a meal there. Anyone with kids will tell you it is a bit of a challenge to enjoy a meal in a restaurant with the little one(s) in tow under the best of circumstances so making in harder on me by frequenting non highchair venues is not top on my list of things to do.

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So, with all due respect to you folks outside New Orleans, I think y’all may be a little confused.

Thanks to the minuscule flame war that erupted after my anti-Chris Rose rant (made elsewhere), and thanks to a couple of emails I’ve recently received, it’s clear that some folks think New Orleans is still wallowing in sorrow like a P-I-G hog. That’s in part due to the fact that the media has moved on to cover presidential candidates and fashion week, meaning that images of the modern-day, new New Orleans have been fewer and further between in the national press

Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, how many more times can we hear Anderson Cooper give the same field report about devastation and displacement? (I could watch it with the sound muted, but only ’cause he’s so freakin’ dreamy.) On the other hand, since you might not have seen us on the evening news, you might not know that many of us have gotten over it–the “it” being Katrina, the Corps, bureaucracy, political posturing, etc. Here’s an excerpt from a response I sent to one of the email queries that pretty much sums up my feelings and those of my family, friends, and co-workers:

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I received a gift in the mail today. It was a ticket from Jefferson Parish. They even sent me pictures of my car so I can put them up on myspace. I could go and try to explain why, but I think that would be a useless trip. They need to see the before and after to make these decisions. I can hear the storm troopers marching down the street already. “We are here to take your children and make you wear this gray jumpsuit. Thank you for visiting Jefferson Parish” This is the first step towards the dream Hitler always wanted. An eye in every house watching everything you do so you don’t hurt yourself. What’s that? Someone is knocking at the door. Hold On………………………………………
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Because you can only get so much information from GeekTv, I went ahead and did a Request for Public Information (RFPI) and got copies of all the Trash Contracts from the City Attorney. They were very prompt in fullfiling my request but the woman who handed them over to me insisted, rather feebly, that the wording did not include demolition type debris. She wasn’t adamant, she was interested because I was so interested. Thanks to Sarah in the City Attorney’s office for making all these copies and for being so sweet.

At first reading, I thought they were correct and I was wrong. Upon further investigation with my handy pink highlighter, I found that the contract really is poorly written and the “unlimited” issue and debris definitions are actually clearly debatable but also there are more holes to consider.

The formal agreement, the bulk wording of the contract, is altered only a little in the bid portion of each contract . . . particularly for SDT who does the 25s. The wording is different for SDT than the vendors handling trash for the rest of the City. Thanks to RCS for putting some of it online so I could illustrate the circular references to construction/demolition debris within the Bulk Waste and Solid Waste terms as well as the issue of the word ‘unlimited’.

My aim was to get at least some of this online so citizens can review the language and definitions through these links to the actual documents and have a real discussion on the issue. Admittedly, I am impatient, I can’t wait for the Inspector General to get up and running. Keep in mind, I am not saying I am 100% right but I believe in having contracts and all publicly generated minutia online. Who knows where things might go from there. I got tired of being on only one side of this discussion.
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…all are being sought to replenish our ranks here at MetroBlogging New Orleans.

You”ll note that recently our list of estemed contributors has dwindled a bit. This has been unavoidable and part of normal attrition, as some of us have had to become more focused on professional opportunity or other issues. BUT….

This leaves tremendous opportunity for those of you who want to join us. There are no rules about how often you can/must post nor regarding your subject matter, as long as it is generally related to the City of New Orleans or to life in Louisiana (where we have no other MetroBlogging cities as yet). You may opine, criticize, rant, propose or whatever — as long as it’s not libelous and as long as it’s written in a credible, readable style. And, if desired, you will also get the opportunity to meet some highly neat people who are involved daily in the New Orleans blogging community. We are truly an EOE site — the more diverse, the better.

Please e-mail me, your modest city captain. The address is on my profile. Thank you and Go Saints.

One month ago, while eating at Surrey’s, my wallet was mysteriously swiped from my table as I was reading the paper waiting for the waitress to collect the money for my bill. It was unbelievable because I never left the table. The wait staff helped me search the trash in case it had been accidentally bussed into the garbage. We looked everywhere.

On Monday, Blockbuster called me to say that a woman came in with my wallet and they gave me her phone number so I could call her. Indeed, this good samaritan, Lindsay, said her dog was in the far back end of her yard in the wooly wild area she forbids her to roam and Precious came out with my wallet! Over the phone, I imagined Lindsay’s dog to be a lab or something bigger but today when I met them, I was tickled to see this little doggie of good deeds.

I thanked Lindsay for following through to try to get my contact information and offered a reward but she’s just happy to have done this for me. While I already cancelled the credit cards, I was happy because my driver’s license, work ID and everything was still in the wallet except $20 in cash. I have had this wallet for at least ten years, it was a gift, and I am really happy to have it back along with some faith in knowing the good samaritan is alive and well. And there is a tiny little tooth hole in the wallet where Precious carried it in her mouth which will serve as a pleasant reminder.

For those who didn’t read the Chris Rose column on Sunday, it’s well worth digesting. I went through a stage of not reading his work, since he went kinda off the deep end for a while. But, like so many, he found his legs again with the help of anti-depressants and now he’s back to being, well, just your normal New Orleans whackjob as opposed to being Dangerously or Chemically Bizarre (see a previous entry).

As the year winds to a close, the same questions persist about why we remain here, given the never-ending list of small problems that would have long ago driven your average Joe or Jane around the bend, out to I-10 and headed toward Anywhere But Here. It’s like being pecked to death by ducks — one blow is only slightly bothersome but repeated and incessant attacks can drive one bonkers. But, realistically, the only options are to 1) stay or 2) go.
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