Effluvia

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Boss Kenny

The Gambler is Boss Kenny.

"Harold's gone? That's not possible - I've got some work for him to do! Tim, go find him."




Two Years Ago
Sim City. Nose hair trimmers.

08/05/2000
Dateline: New Orleans

So there we were, me and The Wife, Guidry Stadium at Nicholls State University, under the blazing Thibodaux mid-day sun. The winner of the local talent show had just sant The Star-Spangled Banner in her high, pure little voice and the crowd of ten-thousand or so was on its feet, cheering.

At that exact monent two F-16's roared over, not much higher than a high punt. And the crowd went absolutely apeshit.

It was a fine moment.

This was...oh, two Saturday's ago - the twenty-second. The day after my last update.

And yes, for those of you who can't stand suspense, I am in New Orleans now. The Great Move is over. Read on for details.

The scrimmage in Thibodaux was totally cool - lots of people, beautiful weather and a spirited team of Saints smacking each other around. We had good seats, too. Even though it was general admission we were second row, twenty yard line.

My arms and knees got sunburned, though. Luckily, I was wearing my Duran Duran bucket hat so my face and neck went uncooked.

That afternoon we drove into New Orleans so Sonya could see the new apartment. At the hotel we got naked and drank water, trying desperately to cool off after the hot day. The air conditioner was underpowered, though, and the coldest the water from the shower would get is lukewarm. Frustrating.

The place we stayed was pretty nice, though. The Maison St. Charles is on St. Charles (naturally) and just barely on the Uptown side of Lee Circle. It's set up nice, with the rooms in buildings clustered around courtyards.

The Wife liked the apartment - which was a big relief, let me tell you - so we went to explore the neighborhood. Several cool stores are nearby, and the Balcony - a bar with lots of draft beer and tasty sandwiches - is within sight of our parking lot. This is good.

Then we went browsing - The Riverwalk, Tower and Virgin Records - and a thunderstorm came along. Ho ho! It didn't bother us! By the time it started raining we were back in the mall, eating beignets.

The joke, however, was on us when we got back to the hotel. The power was out. We got damn-near naked again, only this time with the door open, as I laid on the bed and Sonya sprawled across a chair and hassock, trying to keep cool. It was a very Tennessee Williams scene, what with the plants in the courtyard rustling and sound of the rain and the hot, wet air puffing into the room and all.

"This flowah's startin' to we-yult!" I complained to Sonya as I stumbled across the dark room to bring her a cool washcloth.

At one point our accents became so thick we could no longer understand each other.

Finally we shut the door, pushed all the covers off the bed and tried to sleep. This was akin to trying to nap in a sauna; Sonya and I both went to sleep immediately. About eleven I was awakened by the roar of the air conditioner and the bedside light. I turned the light off, covered the Wife and I with a light blanket and went back to sleep.

We were back in Memphis early that Sunday; Kathy, Sonya's boss, was having a small get-together of co-workers for a farewell party. It was an intimate little group, but they gossiped viciously and were very entertaining.

Okay, last week was fast and unpleasant and it's kind of blurry now...let me see what I can reconstruct. This will be the Cliff Notes version - I don't feel like writing down the entire epic that was (unfortunately) also my Birthday Week.

Monday, July 24: I took the dog to the vet. She's lost a pound since last year. Good Roxy! I packed shit. Sonya and I had dinner with Jose and Camille, where we drank Malibu-based drinks and had a long, lovely evening. They assured us that they'll come visit.

Tuesday, July 25: I got up ungodly early and met my mom, who rode with me down to New Orleans to park my car. We took the train back, and I for one was very impressed with the Amtrak. I recommend the hell out of it. Nice view, very comfortable. They sell beer on board, too. Glenda (my mom) was good company; spending time with her reminds me where my sense of humor comes from. I left the house at five in the the morning and got home abut eleven that night. I walked the dog and crashed on the couch, waiting for Sonya to return from Nashville, where she had gone with some friends to see Duran Duran. She got home about four-thirty; they had a grand time.

Wednesday, July 26: I pack lots of crap. Then I pack some more. Lunch with my mom - she seemed to be taking it all very well! Dinner with Kent and James, our travelling companions to London earlier this year. They assured us that they'd come visit, too.

Thursday, July 27: Much running around. I had to pick up my last paycheck - many co-workers were absent from the former work-place. That ship continues to sink at an alarming rate. The smart ones are leaving, obviously. Car insurance. The bank. Target. Picking up Sonya's tags for the Sebring, finally. Then home to pack like a crazyman until seven, when we went to the Arcade for a farewell bash Jen and James were throwing for us. It was fun - it's always interesting to get your friends who don't know each other together. We had suburban kindergarden teachers, gay hairstylists and wiccan airplane mechanics in attendance. It was sweet of everyone to come, and my stomach was absolutely flip-flopping with anxiety about getting everything packed. I drank beer and visited with people. And my mom started crying when I talked to her on the phone. Lovely.

Friday, July 28: "Happy birthday, Harold - now load the truck!" My nephews, Joe and Michael, showed up around ten. They are young and strong, so I made them lift most of the heavy stuff. By the time they left Donna had showed up, followed by Sonya, Ben (Donna's friend and Thrower of Fine Parties), Jen and James. Sonya went to see her grandparents. We loaded the truck and loaded the truck and loaded some more. It was hot and everything was heavy. We were done by ten and I had to drive the U-Haul to West Memphis. It was nightmarish. I called Donna. Her boyfriend, Jimmy, was going to drive with her to New Orleans, where they would help us unpack and then have a little vacation. I asked if Jimmy could drive a truck. He said he could drive anything. Another problem solved. My sister started crying when I talked to her on the phone. Shit. I got to my in-law's house and promptly passed out. Twelve hours of packing and moving.

Saturday, July 29: The Combined Family (mine and Sonya's) gathered at the West Memphis Shoney's for breakfast. Sonya's family seemed tired; mine seemed gloomy. There was no crying, though. That was good. We got on the road about ten, my driving Donna's car, Sonya in the Sebring with Roxy and Jimmy and Donna in the U-Haul. We pulled into the parking lot of our apartments at six on the nose, after driving through terrible traffic and pounding rain on the outskirts of New Orleans. A rainbow arched over the highway on our way in to town; I took it as a good omen.

Jimmy, who had gone in my opinion from good guy to damned good guy for driving the truck, ascended to the level of near-sainthood when he started helping me unpack the truck. Sonya and Donna left for two hours to check into Jimmy and Donna's hotel and get food, so Jimmy and I toiled for those two hours, under the heat of the setting sun and up two flights of stairs. Jimmy is a big strong man, but he was tired by the end of the evening, too.

Sonya and Donna came back and reported they'd been bumped from the hotel where Donna had reserved a room and were staying at a much nicer hotel in the CBD. They also had lots of Popeye's chicken. We took a dinner break and then went right back to it, finally finishing up (again) around ten. We were all soaked with our own sweat by the end of the night. It was gross. I had a beer and a shower and went to bed.

Sunday morning I returned the truck (which wasn't nearly as hard to drive as it had been Friday night) and the Wife and I stopped by the A&P and the Walgreen's for essentials. Then the Wife unpacked while I lay on the bed, reading the Sunday paper.

Jimmy and Donna came by that night, demanding the dinner we'd promised them. We took their car to the Quarter and ate at Felix's. Jimmy then insisted that we accompany them to the Funky Pirate down on Bourbon for "just one" drink. Mind you, the drink was a hand grenade, a potent drink in a town of drinkers, but I managed to get mine down.

The Funky Pirate, by the way, has a beautiful, sadly underused courtyard. The next time I go I'm sitting outside.

On our way home we saw a "Help Wanted" sign at The Dark Entry (a Bourbon Street gothic clothing store) so we went in to check it out. They're pretty hard core; Sonya's considering it. In fact, she's considering dyeing her hair blue and getting some bullshit job just so she can decompress for a while. She has my full support in this.

And this week I've worked while the Wife has unpacked. That's it. I went and got take-out one night. I got some more groceries. Sonya has worked with the phone and cable people, trying to get everything hooked up and online. Roxy is still a little nervous; she follows Sonya (or me, when I'm there) all around, as if she's afraid she'll be left in this strange place. She's calmer by the day, though. The house is very nearly unpacked. Good.

We've got a nice seafood market right down the street; the other night Sonya and I had cheap crab and shrimp for dinner. It was delicious. This weekend we're shopping for a couch and chair, since those two item didn't make the move - they would have sucked up too much room in the truck, and they were old and worn anyway.

Hi, my name is Harold. I live in the Garden District. And you?




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