Today we drove over the longest bridge in the world. It may be true. It seemed like it. A 24 miles bridge just to get there: New Orleans. It had to be good.
And that night we ended up in the French Quarter, strolling from bar to bar. In Pat O’Brian’s we drank ‘Hurricanes,’ ominously named - and nicer than the real thing. Then I moved on to something called ‘The Climax’ which isn’t nicer than the real thing, but strong. I can’t remember what it tasted like or how many I had.
In several bars we were ripped off but ‘climaxed’ out of our minds it was hard to argue. So we accepted our change and soldiered on.
In one place, Jazz musicians played standing on the bar and you bought your drinks between their dancing feet. It called for concentration which might have been lost had they been women. We stayed there for some time, syncopating drinks and dollar bills between flailing limbs and carelessly aimed trombones.
What I found interesting was a Stripper’s bar. I’d never been to one before and wondered what facial expression to employ. I needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t believe how bored the women looked and in consequence how tedious the event. Woman after woman walked on stage, stripped, twirled and walked off again. It was a conveyor belt operation. They must have had a small army of them backstage, either that or they re-dressed behind the curtains and walked on again. I don’t think we’d have noticed, but disappointing, yes. You want a little more from Sodom and Gomorrah.
In the early hours of the morning, I returned to camp for a beer or two. Evelyn and Laura joined me. They may have been instrumental in persuading the Superintendent to re-open the bar and joining us. There was plenty to think about as the beer slipped down… the world’s longest bridge, bored strippers and grinning bar-tenders who played strange tricks with change.
9 comments:
I remember Greg telling me the same thing when he and his buddies went to a strip club during his university days.
My one and only experience at a male strip show was quite, umm...interesting. They were not boring in the least. Nope. Not boring at all. ;-)
Strangely enough. Once was more than enough for me.
They were not boring in the least. Nope. Not boring at all. ;-)
I can see that twinkle in your eye from here.
Mind, the trannie bar I went to the following night was a tad more interesting. I'll say no more
I set a scene in a book in New Orleans and I'd love to go there one day. This is at least a step closer to being there!
I'd love to read the scene, Malin. There's more on New Orleans in the next post.
I'm looking forward to the next post!
You've read my New Orleans scene - it was in Wizardbiker, when Mikael was fighting with the other young wizard who had lost a familiar.
Wizardbiker! Sorry, Malin. I forgot that. I hope the next post is useful.
We all want to hear about the trannie bar now. Well, when I say 'all', maybe it's just me. ;)
Husband told me that when he and his chums visited a strip club, he couldn't decide if the strippers were more bored than the audience.
There was nothing boring about the 'Trannie Bar':) Mind, that's an ugly phrase, reminiscent of deep fat fryers and transistor radios.
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