Thank You Letter Thursday

Alright, so all my fellow bloggers have a little segment once a week and I’m starting to feel a little left out. Or lame. Or both.

So in the spirit of conformity I would like to start my own: Thank You Letter Thursday. Based on the impeccable and poised writing style of Jimmy Fallon on Late Night, I would like to send thank you letters to some of my favorite annoyances. This week is dedicated to airlines, due to all the travel I’m experiencing.

Thank you, Terror Threat Alert System. Your pink hearts, orange stars, yellow moons system works wonders. You forgot purple, which stands for no-one-gives-a-shit-because-we-all-wonder-how-this-benefits-us-at-all.

Thank you, TSA, for doing such a thorough job of checking bags that you allowed me to get through with the can of mace I forgot in my purse. I guess it’s more important that my flip-flops be scanned thoroughly, right? See Terror Threat Alert System color purple.

Thank you, creepy steward guy on the plane, for leering at me and then asking where the “pretty” friend I came on the plane with was. Rude that you don’t think I’m pretty, even rudder for not realizing I came on the plane alone. Now I’m not only not pretty but slightly invisible.

Thank you, stewardesses, for adamantly insisting I turn off my iPod before we take off.  Because the little bit of power put off by it will surely cause the plane to fall from the sky.

Thank you, outhouse plane lavatory, for allowing me something to ponder during my otherwise boring flight. Really, where does all that stuff go?

Thank you, fasten seatbelt sign, for always coming on right as I need to get up and pee.

Thank you, TV in the back of each airplane seat, for taunting and teasing me the entire 4-hour flight with promises of good shows I could be watching were I not a cheap bastard refusing to pay you $6 with the easy swipe of my debit card.

Thank you, SkyMall Magazine, for showing me all sorts of neat and nifty contraptions I dream of owning. Like a constipated owl figurine fan for $80.

Thank you, Continental Airlines, for possessing the genius to schedule my connection flights only 30 minutes apart. And for running late on take-off. And for taxing forever once we arrived. AND for parking the plane in gate C-34 when my connection flight, now leaving in 5 minutes, is in gate E-15. Running across the airport with a carry-on bag after my hog fest in New Orleans was exactly what I was looking for.

Thank you, mini bottles of Jack Daniels on the plane. No really, thank you.

Miss C in the Big Easy: Prologue

This will be my last post on New Orleans, promise!  It's just that New Orleans was a phenomenon, a crazy alternate universe that can only be described by living it yourself. I want to leave my journey by feeling grateful I was there and retelling some of the highlighted items I grew to appreciate about the city.

Stuff I loved:
1. The food. Amazing! I can’t believe I have now returned to my regular California diet of leaves and twigs. Sooner is better than later though, as I think I gained about 20 pounds.

2. The nightlife. Crazy! It was so fun to walk down the street and find a place to go every two feet, each one better than the last

3. The fact that they won’t let you leave the bar with a glass. They give you a huge plastic cup to pour it in and encourage you to walk the streets like a lush. My kind of place!

4. The music. Going to a place where music fills the streets, where it acts as the blood in the veins of the city, is a wonderful thing

5. The folks. Meeting Southern folks with Southern hospitality and country folks with attitude to boot was a great experience

6. The strange accents. I couldn’t understand a thing some people said. But they said everything with passion and conviction, and that’s good enough for me!

7. Tee-shirts and beer stores. No explanation necessary, just awesome. Get your souvenirs and your drink on!

Stuff I thought was either creepy or strange but dammit l have to mention them anyway:
1. Pizza and daiquiri places. There was one on every single corner, highlighted with tacky neon signs like it was the hippest nightclub. I saw more of these than gas stations. Seriously, who thought up that combination?

2. The smell of the city. Monday wasn’t too bad. Smelled like smoke. By the last day they had left the trash out all week, so the city reeked of sewage, trash, cigars, and dirt. It took me a week to wash that out.

3. Brothels. Ok, they were strip clubs, but I was reminded of the brothels in the old west where half naked girls stood on the corner trying to lure drunken men into the bars to spend all their cash. Seriously, women stood in the doorways in thongs. Pictures of porn were taped to the walls. Sick.

4. Taxi drivers that thought they owned the road. They tried to kill people on multiple occasions.

5. Buses that thought they owned the road. They would literally pull a giant U-turn in the middle of the street and hold up traffic for 10 minutes. Dude, you’re a huge bus! You can’t do that!

6. Pedestrians that thought they owned the road. People in New Orleans don’t follow traffic signals while on foot. At all. If the cars aren’t that close, they just dump themselves onto the road. Hell, they even did that a few times when the cars WERE close. Death wish anyone?

7. Hurricanes and other deadly fruity drinks. I call them hangovers in a glass. And devil juice.

8. Saints trying to save all of us sinners. Yes, Bourbon street was not only crawling with drunks, but infested with bible thumpers. Each one claiming the second coming of Christ and we were all going to hell. One yielded a giant crucifix in the street. Man, you’re ruining my buzz! If you want to banish the devil from NO, go after those awful hurricane drinks.

And yet through the good and the bad, the pretty and the pretty ugly, I had myself a blast. I couldn’t do it every day, but it sure was fun. Next time I go I’ll make sure it’s for vacation and not work. I think I could handle a few more of those hurricanes if I didn’t have to be up in the morning working a show.

Anyway, thank you New Orleans for being you! Until we meet again….Corey out.

 
 
 
So long evil devil juice!

Miss C in the Big Easy: Day 3

*Post dated from 4/21 due to sheer laziness.

One of a million daiquiri and pizza joints.  Why?

Hard to wake up today. We took the clients out for a game of golf, which was actually really fun but still hard work. Acting as the snack cart and personal concierge isn’t as easy as it sounds.

When I got back I took a well deserved nap. Woke up recharged and ready to tackle my last evening in the Big Easy. Having found the opportunity to purchase flat shoes from the local Payless (what has two thumbs and brings only high heels to New Orleans?*thumbs pointed at me*: Dis girl right here!), I had a new confidence that I could walk around all night long without becoming an invalid. I gathered my group and we headed off to Oceana, a cool little place just off the main street.

Once again, the food here was delicious! I had pounds of alligator sausage with fettuccini in a delicious Cajun red sauce. My party was served the restaurant’s famous crab cakes and fried oysters, which I could not partake in due to my unfortunately shellfish allergy. I know, sucks. But don’t worry, I overindulged in the crème brulee for desert, not to mention the numerous stops at the local hot dogs stands prevalent on every corner. Can you hear me getting fatter?

We waddled out of the restaurant and once again made our way to the fav spot, Pat’s. By now I was sick of it. Somehow I managed to get some people out of there and headed back to the karaoke bar for another round of diva-ness. The karaoke dj nicknamed me “Hot Ass Corey,” a name I think I’ll keep for awhile. Especially since people I had never met were calling me that on the street when I returned to the hotel. Yes people, I am taking over New Orleans!

"Hot Ass Corey" in effect bitches!

Ended up at an amazing fast food place called Krystal at 3:30am. I was so excited to eat a bunch of burgers that reminded me of White Castles. I was approached by another homeless man asking for change. His words were, and I quote, “I am not going to use this money to buy food. I promise. I’m going to by myself alcohol. I promise.” I gave him two bucks. Perfect end to the night.

Before I returned to the hotel, I stood outside and took a good look around as I attempted to take a mental picture of the city I was about to leave tomorrow. There was something I was really going to miss about this wonderful, dirty, disgustingly beautiful place. I am so glad I got to experience it. What a blast!

Bourbon Street by day.  Peace out NO!

Miss C in the Big Easy: Day 2

*Post dated from 4/20 due to my inability to remember to pull my blogs off my work computer, which is all I had in NO, and put them on my personal computer, leaving me blog-less over the weekend.

Evil sick devil juice

However wonderful the evening was last night, multiply that by 10 and reverse it to get how I felt the next day. Awful! The beautiful beating drums were replaced by a pounding headache, and my stomach was planning a mutiny against me. And I had to work all day. Imagine the fun!

I did feel better as the day progressed, especially after lunch at the famous Mother’s restaurant. I really enjoyed walking into this authentic Southern Louisiana eatery, served cafeteria style by locals with country accents and attitudes. Had my first po’ boy, a huge sandwich made with fried catfish. Completely drowned it with Louisiana hot sauce. Delicious!  

Cat fish po' boy.  Yummmm!!!!!

After work it was time to prepare for our client dinner at Emeril’s New Orleans. Now I love Emeril. Who doesn’t? His cooking shows are entertaining and I swear I can feel myself getting fatter with every Creole inspired dish he prepares on TV. So I was extremely excited.

And the restaurant lived up to its promise! We were seated in the very hip wine room, a semi-private room surrounded by all the fine wines the restaurant carries. Can you say heaven? The service was the best I’ve ever seen. I sat at the head of the table like some type of queen (maybe a karaoke queen?) and help pick the wine we shared. As our appetizers, salads and dinners were served, 12 waiters arrived with 12 plates for the 12 guests we had, placing the meals in front of us in perfect unison. I felt like I was on an episode of the Tudors! The cuisine was absolutely stupendous. This former vegetarian actually ordered a mouthwatering blue-cheese and wine vinaigrette rib-eye. I’ll never go back to being an herbivore. If you get a chance to go to New Orleans, this is the place to stop.

After Emeril’s it was back to Bourbon Street to reconvene at Pat’s. This time we stood atop the private patio, allowing me a chance to throw beads at unsuspecting passers-by. Eventually ended up at a local joint were they sang live hits from the 90’s. Danced my little (big?) butt off, but inevitably decided to not go big that night but go home instead. Yesterday’s festivities had left me with achy feet from trolling the cobblestone streets and a hole in my stomach from the evil devil juice know as a hurricane. Grabbed a hot dog from the stand for no reason at all on my way back and was approached by a homeless man looking for change.

HOMELESS MAN: Can you spare some change?
ME: I don’t have any change. Sorry. I have this hot dog….
HOMELESS MAN: YES!!! I’ll take it.

Thank god, I really didn’t need it. And I got to do a good deed for the evening!