Last week, I attended the last My Darlin’ New Orleans event thrown by the producers of HBO’s Treme. It was bittersweet as it means the show will end next season. Our city is the better for the jobs the production created, the peek it gave others into our unique local culture and the light it shined on the Mardi Gras Indians and a little known parade called Krewe Du Vieux. Among the many amazing performances that night was Al Johnson singing his classic It’s Carnival Time.
Tag Archives: bourbon
In a well-played upset, the Seattle Seahawks ended the Saints bid for this year’s Super Bowl and our chances at a 2 Dat. After the game, I put my black and gold knit cap and scarf over my Who Dat jewelry and Saints shirt and headed down to Bourbon Street to share my pride and disappointment with the city. People were surprisingly upbeat. Not dancing in the streets like last year, but upbeat. Continue reading
Every year, I look forward to/dread New Year’s Eve. I look forward to fresh starts and new attitudes and celebrations and fireworks and gatherings. I dread parking and crowds and the sinking feeling that I might have no one to kiss at midnight.
Once in a while, a perfect day comes along, a day even better than the one in your imagination. New Year’s Eve 2010 was such a day. Continue reading
First, I got a Louisiana State driver’s license and registered to vote. Then, I registered my car in the state. But, I wasn’t done yet. In L.A., we had to get a smog check once a year. In New Orleans, you’re not road ready until you get a “brake tag.” People take the brake tag very seriously. So seriously that the woman at the DMV told me not to put on my new plate until I had the brake tag. Everyone made it sound like a very serious test. Many had pointers. Continue reading
For those of you who caught the show and wondered if we really do have brass bands playing in the airport, the answer is – yes, sometimes, and it is always the best airport music I’ve ever heard, a welcome that sets the tone for time in the Big Easy. Continue reading