Not only are Taylor and I fun, we are also sensible. Sensible enough to know that for us, being the chillin'-type folk that we are, Bourbon Street at and beyond sundown would just be the worst idea ever. So we set about seeing it in the sunlight on Friday morning after I've finished powdering my chest with sugar at Cafe Du Monde. (Note, I didn't willfully attempt to powder the babes with sugar, but as Taylor noted several times, "Those things just get in the way.") Anyhow, we're strollin' down Decatur, takin' in the sights:
I'm seeing signs and bumper stickers that say, "Hurricane Katrina ... I survived the bitch," which makes me laugh, but only because I hear Rick James saying it (or Dave Chappelle as Rick James saying it. Either way works.). There are t-shirts calling for the powers that be to "Make levees, not war," and after seeing the effects of the levee breaks firsthand (more on that in part 3) I wholeheartedly agree.
Of course, being Wonktastic, formerly the Goldentckt and currently Evergolden, I found the "Willy Nagin and the Chocolate City: Semi-Sweet and a Little Nuts" t-shirts to be too funny. To get an idea for yourself just go to this site:You chocolate?
There's music streaming into the streets and bars are open everywhere and it's just hot enough to make you feel like you need a drink every 10 steps. We're mapless in the French Quarter and are plotting our route when Taylor spots Jimmy Buffett. We can't go up to him on the street though because people are doing that and it just seemed to work against the Parrothead ways of being. So we ogled him for a spell trying to figure out if we'd ever seen him in socks and shoes ... and a fannypack? ... when I decide that I just got to get me some Gatorade so's I can be hydrated for the day ahead. In we go to Walgreens, I scoop up my flavor and get in line ... right behind ... Jimmy Buffett.
Sweet. Taylor and I are conversing about how sickening it is that some kids these days are so skilled in so many things, playing rooms full of instruments at will. It's me in my rambling, sometimes muttering drawl (the heat really brings it out) and Taylor trying hard not to fall prey to my (apparently) contagious drawl, but we are bantering and then at some point Jimmy's shoulders sorta shake and he turns around smiling and chucklin' to see who's supplyin' the funny. Yeah, Jimmy, I smile with a wee w'sup nod, it's us.
We get to Jazzfest and tear up that cochon du lait sammich and a snowball and take in the sounds from the Gospel tent, the Jazz tent, some Africans high steppin' it, a touch of some bluegrass pickin' on our way to settlin' down in the grass in the area surrounding the Southern Comfort soundstage where Marcia Ball got a bit bluesy as the rain clouds threatened to break.
The only potential problem at Jazzfest is that there's simply too much to hear, so we thought it best to just stroll around and hear whatever there was to hear because it was all good. If you ever want to network, please just put on your most comfy Vanderbilt t-shirt and watch the people flock to you - the could-be mothers-in-laws who think you sure do look like a nice girl, the sports fanatics who proudly shout out their year whilst raising toasts and givin' props to quarterbacks who've made good, and the people who couldn't quite get into a school like Vandy but went nearby to some place that offers dance classes and lets you fail trigonometry as many times as you'd like ...
We hit up the world famous Tipitina's to hear The Radiators get down and in turn were introduced to Jake Shimabukuro and his ukulele. For all of you who want to know what While my guitar gently weeps... sounds like on a friggin' ukulele, please go hear for yourselves. He is fantastic energetic stuff. I mean, here I was thinking ukuleles were for gettin' lei'd, hula'in and that dude, IZrael K-plus-40-other-letters-and-an-apostrophe-in-there-somewheres playin' "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." I overheard a man say, "Well I'll be damned," and so he was. And Jake is on tour with our man Jimmy Buffett. Nice.
Anyway, Tipitina's is where we perfected our struts, peanut butter spreadin' techniques and twirlin' in front the fan moves. Heck of a good time had by all.
Saturday we caught some more of the Jazz tent as we made our way to the VIP station - good eats and free Jacks with wee touches of Coke. We also spent a great deal of time near the Gospel tent without ever entering it, because you didn't really need to go in. Salvation was everywhere, just in the sense that the people had returned to New Orleans intent on having a good time. We caught the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, bypassed some country music and zydeco flavorin's on our way to hear Robert Randolph & the Family Band, and then we paid our respects to Jimmy Buffett. It was my first time and I enjoyed it with a few exceptions that needn't really be mentioned, but he's one funny dude who kept almost everyone in a peaceful, easy mood. Of course the air was filled with peaceful, easy, feelin' type things, too, so that helps I guess.
We were going to go back on Sunday to see Fats Domino, but we got early word that he was ill and so we didn't make it. We thought about going anyway because Paul Simon was there and I did tell Taylor that I'd be her bodyguard and she agreed that she could be my long lost pal - which fit in the sense that she calls me pal and it'd been long enough since we'd seen each other that I imagine the word lost could apply. But we didn't, and thank goodness we weren't there because I'd have been seriously bummed to have Lionel Ritchie take the stage in place of Fats. I mean Lionel's alright. He did co-write "We Are the World," but you can't really dance on the ceiling outdoors, and all night long is best heard at night and the fest only plays by day ... it'd have just been a bad ending for us to go out that way I think. So I'm glad we were otherwise occupied as it turned out to be much more worthwhile anyway ...
Read on up for the third and final part. Does this feel as long as the Lord of the Rings trilogy yet? Heck it'd been awhile since I'd posted anyways ...