Sometimes I think John and I fell in love in New Orleans. We didn't. The first time we were in New Orleans together was a year into our relationship, long after we'd said I love you. But he emailed me one day at work, during those tentative weeks when we'd first met and were just friends, and asked about my recent trip to New Orleans with friends. Tell me some stories, he wrote.
I wrote, Well, the hotel was awesome. An old converted house kind of. Lots of New Orleans charm. Got there Sat. afternoon, got some fried goods and oysters, shopped a bit, met my friends' friends who came up from Florida with their cute little baby. Went out and ate a thousand more oysters. Went back to the hotel and rocked the little baby to sleep to some Lucinda Williams. Drank, acted obnoxious, jumped on the bed for 20 min. trying to get Tina to wake up and go out with us, fell into the wall, got a bruise on my back. Went down to Frenchman street, saw an awesome band with a big horn section, danced, danced, danced. Annoyed Greg by spilling beer on his jeans. Shrimp po' boy from verti mart at 4am. Slept. Woke up. Hangover. Excedrin. Beignets in the morning, sat in jackson square. Beautiful weather. Shopped, walked around, more oysters at Acme. Napped. Dinner at Copelands (place my boss suggested . . . yum.) Back to Frenchman St. Made some new best friends at the Apple Barrel (aka the Crapple Barrel by its regulars). Got a palm reading from Jimmy the bartender and then a neuroscientist who was in town for the neuroscience convention analyzed a dream I had (b/c apparently neuroscientists can do that?). Drank a thousand 2 dollar beers. Left around 5am after deciding not to make out with the Willie Nelson singing guitar player, Brad, after extensive conversation about the legalization of marijuana and after some girl named Kristy called the bar and he told the bartender to tell her he wasn't there. Slept on the couch of some dude's apartment that Jen felt the need to make out with. 'Cause if he turned out to be an axe murderer I guess it would be better if he killed us both? Caught the bus back to the hotel looking like the morning after. Ate. Flew home. There's a synopsis for you. I love new orleans.
He wrote, Did I ever tell you I have a huge crush on you? He hadn't. But I'd known this all along.
I told him I bought him a souvenir from a homeless man who'd wandered into the bar on Frenchman Street. "Really it was just the smallest thing that he was selling and so I bought it because he was nice and then I thought, you know, John will really love this tattered, seashell-imprinted leather wallet." I gave it to him a few days later after we went to a movie and our knees came close to touching as we slouched in our seats. He carried the thin, dirty wallet for months; eventually it split in two at the fold.
"What're you gonna do with a man's wallet?" Jimmy the bartender had asked me after I passed the homeless man four dollars and slipped the wallet into my purse.
"Give it to a friend," I'd said.
"A man?" he'd asked.
"Yeah, a man. John."
"You're sittin' here in this city thinkin' about him? While he's up there in Chicago?"
"I guess so. He's kind of a new friend."
"That ain't no friend smile you're wearin', darlin."
I'd known this all along.
[This is a work in process.]
I didn't fall in love in New Orleans. I did step in vomit. Does that count?
Posted by: Mist 1 | February 19, 2007 at 10:05 PM
It's wonderful so far. I can't wait to read more.
Posted by: Churlita | February 20, 2007 at 01:04 PM
I like it so far. It puts me in the mood to reread 'A Confederacy of Dunces'.
Can't wait to see the next installment.
Posted by: EEK | February 20, 2007 at 01:14 PM
Ah, okay, I had to read it a few times before figuring out it was fiction. I was wondering how you had such recall of events. Keep going and working it out. Nice beginning!
Posted by: fringes | February 20, 2007 at 05:14 PM
lovely
Posted by: Margaret | February 22, 2007 at 07:36 AM
I don't know if it's true or not, but I really like it. "New friend smile", indeed!
Posted by: wordgirl | February 22, 2007 at 10:24 PM
Well, it is a true story. The precise recall of events comes from email archives. But the long email doesn't really work in the story. Like I said, work in process.
Posted by: Cover Your Mouth | February 26, 2007 at 08:23 PM
hehe... I vaguely remember a few weekends like that, but things get a bit hazy after that last shot of tequilla.
Posted by: Ellie's Mommie | February 27, 2007 at 07:07 PM