Well, New Orleans was quite an experience. My friend David has a lovely two-story 1835 house on Ursulines Street, between Bourbon and Royal, right in the heart of the French Quarter. He’s lived there off and on since college, so he knows every inch of the town and we did things and went places most people don’t know about (alleyway bookshops, out-of-the-way restaurants). Gorgeous town, I love decaying old ruins [feel free to insert joke here]. Did the usual tourist stuff, of course: Garden District, cemeteries, a few historic house tours. The wax museum is hilarious: department-store mannequins in dramatic poses. One vignette presents Sarah Bernhardt, Enrico Caruso and John Wilkes Booth all performing for Jenny Lind. The Divine Sarah is curtseying and her head is hanging on by a thread, to Jenny Lind’s evident amusement. I think really bad wax museums are so much more enjoyable than really good ones.
New Orleans is a very gay town—at least the Quarter is—so we went to drag bingo and a gay strip joint (it was very hard finding someplace to tuck a dollar bill!). Had dinner with some friends of David’s, and to a loft party, where I met the drummer for my favorite local group, the New Leviathan Oriental Foxtrot Orchestra! Also chatted with a teenage go-go boy and a lesbian circus dwarf. David happily agrees that at least 50 percent of a vacation should be spent lying there like a lox, so we did sit up in bed and eat ice cream from martini glasses while watching tapes of Sex in the City.
I also managed to attract the only cute heterosexual man in the Quarter, which locals agreed was quite an accomplishment. David and I happened to be passing Harrah’s, and as neither of us has ever been in a casino, we decided to stop in for a look-see. David said, ‘cute guy at 11:00, checking you out.’ I zeroed in like a heat-seeking missile. He was indeed cute: a PR guy for a medical firm, he was at a Spinal Injuries Convention across the street. We got on like a house afire, but he was leaving the next day (at least, that was his story and he was sticking to it). He said he’d call me when he’s on one of his occasional New York business trips. I might be able to help him place a story in my magazine, so it’s in his best interests to call even if it’s just for business reasons . . . Though I got the distinct impression he’s up for some social fun, too.
The trip ended on an exciting note . . . Friday I woke at 3:30 a.m. when someone bumped into the bed and grabbed my leg for balance—David on the way to the bathroom, I thought. Then I saw him climb out the window and down the balcony. Oop! I waited till he was gone and woke David up—he’d gotten my pocketbook and David’s briefcase. The police arrived four hours later (‘busy night’) and of course there’s not a thing they can do, though a little sympathy and shoulder-patting wouldn’t have come amiss. Thank goodness I had my plane tickets in my suitcase; he got my credit cards, camera, cash, watch and lipstick (thank goodness I had an extra lipstick in the bathroom!). David lost his social security card, passport and all his financial info. By the way, when they tell you it’s easy to cancel your credit and ATM cards 24 hours a day, they are LYING. I suppose I should be happy he didn’t slit my throat on his way out . . . Other than that little adventure, it was a lovely trip.
So, what did I miss here?