Number Two

IN NEW ORLEANS BUT STILL WRITING ABOUT SAN ANTONIO

We didn’t forget to visit the Alamo… we remembered it! Ha ha! I asked the docent there if they rented cars. You should have seen the look on his face! Ha ha!

Now I’ll tell you about our lunch and dinner, which I’m sure you’ll find fascinating; later I’ll tell you about taking an nap, and then after that about going to the bathroom. They say the key to good writing is good editing… what a crock!

Lunch. Given that Sammi is a vegetarian, and that we had approximately 400 restaurants within walking distance, I’m not sure why we chose The County Line Bar-B-Q. Their tagline is “Get it all over yourself.” I’ve always been a bit mystified by this and similar slogans favored by barbeque and burger joints. Am I the only one whose appetite is actually diminished by the prospect of having animal fat and other greasy drippings smeared all over my hands, face and clothes? I admit that I’m on one end of the extreme regarding food messiness—I eat pizza with a knife and fork—but still. I really don’t get it.  In protest I ordered the single non-meat item on the menu, the Grilled Veggie Kabobs, as did Sammi. I suppose it was poetic justice that I dropped one in my lap and the heavily oiled veggies “got all over me.”

That evening we returned to River Walk for a quick bite to eat, where we were joined by roughly eighteen thousand other tourists, all in a competitive quest for lavishly-priced margaritas and Mexican food by the river. Although several dozen venues offered this experience, demand easily outstripped supply and long waiting lines snaked everywhere. Except, that is, at “Rio Rio Cantina,” where we were seated immediately. But our table was inside, with no view of the river, and the interior designer had obviously made a heroic effort to squelch any hint of ambience. Not only that, but after an hour we were unable to catch the eye of a waiter, despite the fact that I had eventually resorted to doing back handsprings down the middle of the restaurant. The waiters and busboys just stepped around me, and finally we gave up and left. I left a measly $5.00 tip as message of dissatisfaction.

River Walk was proving to be a lost cause, so we walked up to street level and found a cute little pizza place, which for some reason had no customers. Perfect! The menu sign was simple, just pizza and salad. Several “Toppings” were listed, and under “Specialties” were preconfigured combos such as “Hawaiian.” Pizza by the slice was listed at $2.50. We each wanted one slice of pizza, plus Sammi wanted a side salad.

Unfortunately, taking such an order proved to be an unconquerable challenge for the employees. The first fellow made a noble attempt, and he began jotting down our order on a scratch pad. But our questions about the fare completely dumbfounded him. The first was, “Can your ‘specialty’ pizzas be ordered by the slice?” After struggling with the complexity of this query, he finally went and summoned a more veteran worker from the kitchen. We re-posed the question to him, but his blank look didn’t give us much hope.  “Specialties?” he asked. We pointed to the menu sign. “Right there, under ‘Specialties.’”  He stared at the sign for what seemed like two minutes, obviously trying to I absorb this new and most startling information. He finally choked out “Um… you can only get two toppings when your order by the slice.”

“Okay, so how many toppings does the Hawaiian have?” This was too much for him, and a look of panicked bewilderment emerged. Apparently it had never occurred to them that a patron might order a specialty pizza by the slice. I felt sorry for him, so out of mercy I said, “Forget the Hawaiian. I’d just like one slice of pizza, please... and my two toppings will be pineapple and ham.” A grin spread across his face as he returned to familiar territory. “You got it!” he responded cheerily.

Meanwhile the Guy #1 was attempting to transcribe his notepad scribbling into the cash register. Unsuccessfully. He looked about ready to cry. And I was already crying. But Guy #2, brimming with renewed confidence, took over. Of course he had to void the entire transaction and start over.

By this time the manager had noticed the difficulties and began to personally oversee the project. The next hurdle was filling Shana’s request for bottled water. Mr. Manager whispered something to Guy #2, who ran into the back. Ten minutes later he finally returned, out of breath but smiling. It turns they didn’t have any bottled water so he had run to a nearby store to get it. We finally got out of the pizza place at about 9:00 PM. It was 90 degrees and raining.

On our walk back to the hotel we saw a number of those charming horse-driven carriages. Have you ever wanted to ride in one of those? Me neither, at least not without wearing a Groucho mask. As we passed by one, I overheard the driver entertaining her riders: “Then after that ah lurned me tah draahv a tohw truck an’ repossess carrrs…” I was impressed that she had gone the extra mile and had several of her front teeth removed, giving her "look" that enhanced the authenticity of the character she was portraying.

The next day was Sophie’s birthday, so when she woke up we surprised her with a party! Even though it had been quite a hassle to secretly haul all of her gifts with us, it was seeing the look of delight on her face:

There were other colors too, a total of like five.

Oh, and we also let her know that after Savannah we were going to drive to Franklin, Tennessee, hometown to Miley Cyrus. It has been a lifelong goal of Sophie’s for like a year to visit there.

At breakfast we learned that the Emily Morgan Hotel where we were staying has a well-known reputation for being haunted. Yikes! This not only totally creeped out the girls, but it cleared up a spooky mystery for me. During the previous night I had heard the toilet flush… even though Shana and the girls were asleep!!! At the time I had attributed it to me pushing on the handle.

Leaving San Antonio for New Orleans, Shana volunteered to drive the first leg again and I accepted without reservation; I welcomed the opportunity to sit back and relax for a couple of hours. Enough about that. Moving onto my writing career, I’ll let you know when my new book is finished, White Knuckled Journey.

Billboards along the way: “Beaver Nuggets!” and “We Sue Lawyers!”

We had dinner at the Blue Dog Café in Lafayette, Louisiana, a restaurant inspired by the Blue Dog Man and featuring dozens of paintings of blue dogs. Oh, and really good food.