Failing to Keep My Big Mouth Shut

Well the only thing of importance that happened anywhere in the world yesterday apparently was that a former NBA player revealed that he was gay.  The fact that the Israelis had something nice to say about an Arab Peace Plan, that armed militias surrounded the Libyan Justice Ministry threatening that fragile democracy, or that there was actual good news on the US national debt all paled in comparison with the news that a former jock actually sleeps with other dudes.

Brave Dude!

I applaud Jason Collins for coming out, something that took real courage in the testosterone laden world of professional sports, but c’mon, that was the biggest news story of the day?  There has always been a serious isolationist streak to America and the assigned importance of this story by the national media and their breathless coverage of it provides ample evidence of that.  We need to get over our fascination with celebrities and athletes.  They’re not worthy of the consideration we afford them.

I used to torture my sister every Christmas by engaging in a debate about gay rights.  I didn’t believe the very hateful things I said but it was fun to see her spin into the stratosphere as I said more and more outrageous things.  I’m so proud of my children’s generation where the issue of who sleeps with who isn’t really an issue any more.  Finding love with another person is probably the most important thing a human can do and they should be allowed the dignity to do it on their own terms. 

Again, there are so many more important things going on that we should be focused on but once again with the national media can’t seem to get out of their own way. Their motto seems to be – “No horse is too dead to beat”. 

A friend e-mailed me the photo below which I think speaks volumes about what we don’t get from the national media.  Former President Bush hosted wounded Warriors at his ranch for ten weekends over the past year in a genuine expression of gratitude for their service and sacrifice.  However this is no where near as important at whatever new low the Kardashians have sunk to – a little perspective please!

Not The Ogre the Media Would Have You Believe

In keeping with the above paragraphs, I do occasionally experience problems with keeping my mouth shut.  My wife knows how to use that to her advantage – playing me like a guitar.  While she was dragging me around the flower shops this past weekend, knowing that I was in dire pain, she started looking at raised flower beds – something she’s wanted for a couple years.  I was aghast at the prices – somewhere north of $500.  I boldly proclaimed, based on my years long viewing of This Old House, that I could build one myself for a lot less.  I could actually feel the trap spring shut as soon as the words left my mouth as an amused expression spread across my wife’s face.

So yesterday, after work, I headed to Home Depot to peruse the lumber aisles.  I’d spent part of the day trolling the internet for plans and came up with what I think will be a winner.  My problem has never been the will or desire to do something like this – only the ability.    I loaded the car with the lumber and put the 12 foot long post on top (thanks to the guy in the parking lot who gave me good advice on securing it).  Since the very heavy post was riding on top of the skylight window on my wife’s car – the ride home was fraught with a little tension. 

The Future Planter - I Hope!

I unloaded my haul into the garage and faithful assistant Buddy and I got right to work.  My wife came down to inspect and I could see she was a little worried about what her machinations had wrought.  I had the family vacuum set up to catch saw dust while I merrily sawed away (see Norm – I was paying attention).  Tonight I’ll start doing the assembly – this should be fun!

So It Begins - Note The Effective Use of Safety Glasses

Sunday Rules Shattered

I have a fairly iron clad rule that I consume no adult beverages when I have to work the next day.  I’ve enforced the rule on myself since I turned 30 years old and I no longer found getting up for work as easy when I had done so.  The Army was also singularly unforgiving with officers who were not functioning as well as they should be – I didn’t want to be one of those guys.

For every rule (well almost every) there is an exception.  Yesterday we journeyed back up to New Hampshire to finally spend some time with my Keene Friend who has been trying to corner the market on work hours since getting his new job in February.  He only gets every other Sunday off and yesterday was one of those days. 

When Buddy the Wonder Pooch heard we were going to see one of his favorite humans (he of early morning walks and endless doggie treats fame) he insisted on accompanying us.  My wife and I left a little early because she decided we needed to stop at the tax free Home Depot store and start laying in her supply of flowers (be still my heart from overwhelming joy at that prospect). 

My Wife in Action

We arrived at the huge store and since we’d been in the car for a couple hours I started looking for the rest room which of course (as with all Home Depots) was as far as geographically possible from the front door.  I arrived in semi-emergency status and was achieving relief when I noticed the long haired heavy set gentleman I observed sweeping the floor when I rushed in was in fact a cleaning lady.  I gave her my best sheepish grin and I think she made a mental note to put up a sign the next time to defend against middle aged, very focused men.

My wife spent the time first acquiring a basket load of flowers and then changing her mind which meant I had to replace all the returned items as she continued her scorched earth march through the flower section.  I just got through the check out line when she rushed up with two more flowers.  I told her she would have to wait while I loaded the first batch into the car.  When I returned to the same checkout line I noticed the two flowers had grown to six – at this point I insisted she remain with me during the rest of the check-out (escape) process.  The check out guy was amused at my restraining order.

We finally made it to my friend’s house and had to unload all the flowers again as well as a very happy Buddy.  He immediately went for my friend and was rewarded by multiple treats.  Buddy went into the cage and we headed out for lunch.  We let my wife decide where to eat and we wandered down Keene’s Main Street while she tried to remember this place she wanted to go.  All she remembered was French Fries and chicken so my friend and I were kind of baffled.  She finally gave up and said we should go to Panera (Yay! – you can never get enough saw dust in your diet). 

We were a block away from dietary doom at Panera when she gave us another clue and I said, “Do you mean – 5 Guys!?”  She agreed and asked how close we were.  Not daring to look at each other to reveal our glee my friend helped me negotiate some back streets to avoid passing by Panera and arriving at 5 Guys.  It was there we revealed there would be no chicken on the menu which she took like a good sport.  My friend and I congratulated ourselves in finessing a 5 Guys lunch instead of Panera.  While our cholesterol count took a hit I figured we saved a couple of trees by not eating at Panera.

Keene Friend at Elm City Brewery

Since my wife had a very overdue date with her long neglected friend – TJ Maxx, she dropped my friend and I off at the Elm City Brewery (talk about long neglected friends).  We occupied out normal seats at the bar just in the time for the first pitch of the Red Sox game. Our normal bar tender was not on duty but her replacement was a very nice lady with a killer smile which she employed to devastating effect.  My friend and I spent the next few hours catching up, marveling at John Lackey’s rebirth as a Sox pitcher, and nursing some really good beer downrange. 

The Smile Seen From a Distance

I was once again amazed at my wife’s capacity to shop as we were feeling no pain when I saw her walking up in a completely new outfit (TJ Maxx strikes again!) just as the Sox completed their sweep of the hapless Astros.  I fielded a call from my sister whom we had apparently called at some point in the afternoon (evils of demon alcohol) and she was good sport about our inability to remember why we called. 

My Wife (New Outfit) and Friend in Dowtown Keene

Off to execute another of our signature moves – dinner at Margarita’s in downtown Keene.  We walked in on some sort of fund raising effort and were soon ensconced at one of our usual tables.  While we were just settling down, my Keene Friend was joined by one of our high school classmates who was involved in the fund raising.  She was the most sought after and beautiful girl of our high school class and can still turn a head or two forty years later.  She and my Keene Friend dated a couple times a few years ago so his “cool meter” went off the charts of all his married friends vicariously living through him.  She departed after a while when some very concerned friends came by to rescue her.

Outside Margarita's

Dinner was awesome but the company even better.  It was readily apparent that my friend was extremely rusty in his role as my official “filter” while at Margarita’s.  My observations on the waitress’ short shorts did not go over well with certain Panamanians I am married to. I survived and as we headed home (after loading the flowers again) reflecting on a long but extremely well spent day, I was glad it had been a day for rule breaking.

My Friend Had A Birthday Cake For My Wife 2 Months After Her Birthday
Because That's How He Rolls

Buddy Getting His Licks In

Saturday Sores

Yesterday was the first Saturday in my dimly remembered series of weekends that I actually got to spend time at the house.  This, of course, meant I had to devote some time to long planned, but sporadically accomplished chores.  

The first order of business, as it is always, was performing the wife directed work.  After the sectional couch was repaired, large mirror re-installed (despite daughterly feng shui complications), and two paintings moved, I could spend some time on what I needed to get done – namely tackle that bane of my winter existence – the snow blower. 

The Task Ahead of Me

I’ve decided the bonfire where this execrable piece of frustration is consumed will have to wait for an appropriate audience (or I may just sell it for scrap iron).  This annual rite of converting the tractor back to lawn mower status is always a bit of a mental exercise as I dimly recall where certain connections are made. The Chinese speaker who authored the Sears instruction book is of limited help.  I actually got it right (at least I think I did) and you should pay no attention to the spare washers left on the floor (I eventually figured out where they went). 

Buddy Assisting Me

Buddy came down to assist me in the process and since I was laying on the floor this meant it was play time for him.  I think he was just celebrating that it just a little too cold for his first outside (garden hose) bath of the year.   I did get to speak on the phone with my daughter while I was under the tractor where she related the social comings and goings of her fun gang in NYC.  She recommended I get out the instruction book and to mollify her concerns I promised I would but I succeeded without it!

Mission Complete (I Hope!)

My wife used the time to virtually sanitize her car and cast aspersions as to Buddy’s ability to shed hair from inside his cage into her car.  Once she was assured I had the lawn mower working she decided to continue her relentless program of garden expansion.  This meant I faced the task of digging up and removing sod from the designated target areas. 

In a little bit of a deception campaign I selectively convinced her garden should go into the areas that are the toughest to mow.  I also decided to use the removed sod to address a long standing personal peeve.  Every time I entered the driveway I would see the pipe and it bugged me.  There is a drainage pipe right next to my driveway peeking up out of the grass.  My engineer son expressively forbids me from removing it (something about complete loss of the front lawn or something equally nonsensical).  I therefore took it upon myself to dig up around the pipe and then bury it deeper and cover it from the sod of my wife’s new gardens.

Pipe Excavation

Sounded like an easy enough plan until the digging started and the thousands of small rocks had to be moved.  My wife was a little nervous when she saw the huge pile of rocks building up on the driveway.  I eventually did get it done and I’m happy with the result – I do have the obligatory busted up knuckles that I can’t seem to avoid whenever I do chores like this.  There was also a pervasive sense of exhaustion as middle aged digging is a bit more taxing than in my younger years.

Looks Pretty Good

I get to recuperate today with the long delayed trip back to my hometown where my Keene friend finally has a day off. He was unemployed for several months and seems bound and determined to catch up on effort levels by rarely taking a day off.  It will be so good to see him again. 

Friday Fades

I never really allowed myself to recover from a bit of over extension of what a middle aged body (and mind) should be capable of in New Orleans (C’mon it was New Orleans).  Unlike a certain wife, who shall go unnamed, I had to go immediately back to work on Tuesday.  It was for that cumulative reason that I was pleased that yesterday was Friday and heralded a somewhat more sedate weekend. 

The big boss did send me an apology e-mail yesterday which was semi-bizarre.  While it made me feel good that I hadn’t offended him too much by calling him out in the meeting on Thursday it was also weird that he mentioned he was undergoing a colonoscopy next week and they might find his brain while in there.  While this was definitely too much information it led me to wonder if he had started his meds too soon.

View From Brew City

My immediate, and certainly most excellent, boss called for a meeting of the minds at Brew City for a well-deserved (I, of course, setting the criteria) First Friday celebration.  It’s been a few weeks but I’m beginning to think we’ve established some sort of reputation there because the waitress, without a word from us, brought over the right drink order before we even sat down.  To think we once abandoned this place for poor service – it’s certainly changed.

Speaking of great service – my wife and I made it back to Zorba’s for the transcendent pizza and great company.  It was so nice to feel like we didn’t have to hurry to some event and could engage in some honest to God conversation (I made sure I couldn’t see ESPN too well – that helped).  The very cute waitress stopped by and said hi which immediately sent my wife into Eagle Eye Mode. 

My Beautifuyl Date at Zorba's Last Night

We decided to reward ourselves with a stop at Ronnie’s for some ice cream on the way home (after a Zorba’s pizza the cholesterol battle was lost for the day anyways).  Ronnie’s is something of a local landmark.  It closes for the winter and only recently re-opened. It only serves fish (which explains my lack of patronage) but also has a great ice cream counter.  We made our way around the long line waiting for fish and scored some truly awesome ice cream.  My only problem was the survival of my ice cream for the ride home due to some relentless poaching from my wife.

Ronnie's

We settled into the couch to watch yet another Red Sox win although the game felt like it was played in molasses, just so slow – seemed like several hundred foul balls.  While on the couch the week finally caught up with us (not to mention the beer, pizza, and ice cream) and I was taking the odd inning off by dozing through the more mundane events.  Felt good to have my favorite Panamanian right next to me – exactly the kind of evening I needed.

Styrofoam House Continues to Go Up Downhill

Note to Self – Earth Approaching

Events yesterday finally conspired to bring me down from the “social high” I somehow maintained all week from the Roothugger Reunion.  All it took was a first thing in the morning meeting (bane of my existence) scheduled to last for an hour which extended well into a second hour.  I think any meeting that goes over an hour long is wasted time.  If it can’t get done in an hour someone wasn’t prepared. 

I was forced to take on the overall head of the agency, a guy I really like and respect.  It was one of those “Emperor Has No Clothes” situations where he had cowed everyone into doing things that impacted severely on the efficiency of the operation.  I started making some pretty brutal observations about the impact of all the last minute changes being forced down our throats.  Virtually everybody in the meeting supported my views (thanks for letting me be the bad guy) which left the big guy feeling kind of isolated. 

I know he blamed me (rightfully so) but it had to be said and I took no pleasure in the expression.  Everybody was thanking me afterwards (privately, of course) but it’s kind of screwy that I had to be the one to do it.  At least I’m still employed, I think.

I was bothered by it all day but it was finally a glorious spring day (we do have a few of those in New England) which helped a little.  I got home with enough daylight left to put up the new canvas on the back deck gazebo.

If you are a long time reader you’ve followed my adventures with the canvas from last year semi-successful attempt to glean one more summer from the original canvas and its eventual demise due to the wind tunnel my house is located in. 

Success!!

I found an all too easy replacement on the internet which had me doubting as to its fit.  Since I had to throw away the box it came in today it had to go up yesterday (in case I had to return it).  It turned out to be remarkably easy, except for the part where I had the whole thing up and then noticed I forgot to cover a certain part which meant I had to take it all down again.  My wife and faithful assistant Buddy the Wonder Pooch were extremely impressed.  As I was putting it up I noticed some of the metal framework was starting to rust away so this canvas may outlast the structure. 

This success combined with yet another Red Sox win (okay it was against the Astros) ended the day much better than it began.  I also completed watching the last movie I had stacked up on the mantle.  This is the first time it’s been clear since last October. I had not been able to clear the mantle due to the combined effects of my wife’s veto authority and her somewhat mysterious desire to spend time with me.   Her months long absence allowed me to knock off Star Trek, Rome, and Combat.  Now I have a problem with a very crowded movie collection shelves which I had thought would last for years more – ahh life and its incredible challenges.

Downhill Construction - First Floor Framed In
Seems to be Made of Styrofoam

Pettiness is Next to Imbecility

Yesterday saw another day decompressing from the epic weekend in New Orleans and I was aided significantly in this by lunch with my favorite son. We met at our normal place and he updated me on life with the Most Excellent Girlfriend and the upcoming summer.  It was so heartwarming to see him perk up when I explained the issues causing delays on the construction project here in Worcester.  He immediately explained and understood everything that was going on – an honest to God engineer, my kid!

Lunch with This Guy Yesterday - Awesome!

It’s interesting in that I think I’m finally catching up to him.  I’ve always said he is so far ahead of where I was at the same age. As he gets older he’s now getting into the years where I kind of figured things out and started excelling as an Army officer.  He’s still much better paid than I ever was at his age but he’s worked hard for it – I’m so proud of that young man.

I compare the good feeling I get hanging around with him, his sister, the Roothuggers, etc, etc with the almost daily pettiness that seems to permeate so many people’s existence.  One of the most glaring examples of this is the current American political process.     

I do not understand why some people need to make comments or commit acts that serve no other purpose other than to inflict some kind of emotional pain on another.  It’s certainly not rational but seems to happen all the time.  Pettiness leads to over sensitivity as people misinterpret innocent comments as attacks. 

 

I think one of the most important things I’ve learned in life is the idiocy of pettiness.  We’re all in this together and if we rob the petty people of their power by not reacting to their personal failings – we’ll all be happier.

Downhill Construction - Foundation has been Poured - Behind SUV

Social High With Medical Bye

Yesterday was the first day back at work after the epic Roothugger Reunion in New Orleans.  I think there is something to be said about a “social high”.  An almost euphoric feeling of well being achieved after spending good times with people you love.  I get this sometime with visits to the people in Rhode Island or back in my hometown.  Even though I was semi-exhausted from the long walks and other assorted activities, as well as the day long travel, I was in such great mood yesterday at work.  Just another thing I have to be grateful to the Roothuggers and the Big Easy for.

I also had a check up with the doctor yesterday.  I seriously question the wisdom of scheduling this appointment directly after a weekend of extreme excess but apparently I checked out okay – must have been the carry over effect of the social high.  He did refer me to an orthopedic specialist for my knees which continue to trouble me at odd times. 

While travelling to and from New Orleans I finished the last of the John Ringo “Kildar” books, Tiger by the Tail.  This one seemed to lose the edge of the preceding iterations.  He brought in a co-author for this one and you could definitely see the drop in quality.  The Kildar and the Keldara were running around Southeast Asia taking out pirates and corrupt Chinese generals in Myanmar in this one.  The action scenes were up to Ringo’s usual crackling style but the time between them seemed stale.

Construction Continues Down the Hill in Our Dreary Weather

My wife was staging a mini-protest at home over the ridiculously low temperatures we were blessed with.  She firmly stated that she wasn’t going to leave the house until it warmed up.  I cajoled her into honoring date night which we used to see the new Tom Cruise movie, Oblivion.

This was science fiction on a very large scale, but done right by focusing on the stories of the people involved.  That story was kind of predictable (I foresaw the supposed big twist just from seeing the previews) but Cruise, for whatever else he is, can carry a movie like this effortlessly.  His interactions with other cast members was tone perfect and very believable.  My only problem was the severe underuse of Morgan Freeman and the Jaime Lannister guy.  I think there was a better movie hiding just under the surface even though this was still a very good flick. 

Finally some of the other Roothuggers are sending out some of their pictures from the reunion – some of which I can even share with you.

Lunch Before Battlefield Tour

Roothugger Table at "My Way" Show

Ernst Cafe on the Last Day

Cajun Dining on First Night

 

Bourbon Street - Balconies Stocked



Homeward Bounding – New Orleans – The Final Chapter

Yesterday the epic trip to New Orleans concluded with a very early morning trip to the airport thanks to one of the peerless Roothuggers who ferried us there before his own long drive home.  I’ve seriously got to reconsider these early morning flight times – especially given the prior few days of adult beverage consumption.

Apparently even my clothes put on weight during the trip because my wife and I put the exact same items into the suitcase and it weighed in 1.7 pounds heavier at the airport.  I’m not going to think too much about what that might mean.

There was all kind of noise about delayed flights because of the sequestration cuts in air traffic controllers but all the flights were right on time.  The Obama PR machine may have missed the boat, I mean, plane on this, at least from my experience.

The airlines did their usual fantastic job of feeding us – nada.  There wasn’t time to pick up any food as we changed planes in Dallas so we were pretty famished by the time we hit Boston.  We were on the bus to the parking garage when the bus pulled to the side to mark a minute of silence at 2:50pm to mark the one week anniversary of the marathon bombing.  A fellow passenger even took it upon himself to tell a clueless businessman to shut the hell up on his inane cell phone conversation.  The looks the businessman got from the rest of the passengers helped him feel really small.  Events of the bombing really parenthesized my trip.

Since we were right on the cusp of rush hour the first priority was to escape Boston towards Rhode Island where Buddy was awaiting extraction.  Once we wound our way through the labyrinthine meanderings of the Big Dig on I-93 south we successfully avoided the worst of the Boston traffic.  I was convinced there was a Cracker Barrel restaurant on I-95 south before we got to Rhode Island so that became the plan. 

The Elusive Quarry

With each mile it became obvious either my memory was failing or the restaurant had closed (I vociferously voted for the latter).  The problem was once the image of a Cracker Barrel meal was proposed – nothing else would do.  We reached Rhode Island in great time but found my sister’s house locked and empty (well except for the heated barking of Buddy – three feet from the front door). 

My hunger had not reached the point that I was willing to break into the house (a close thing).  We tried my sister’s cell phone with no success so after waiting about fifteen minutes we took off on an odyssey across Cranston visiting literally every house of her in-laws trying to find her.  I became increasingly concerned that something bad had happened in my absence because my sister is reliable and this was not normal.  After rousing her brother in law from his personal meditations and her mother in law we located my sister (immense relief) who was out running errands.  We had her old cell phone number (which still had her message on it which confused us) and she thought we were coming in later.

We made our way back to her house to reunite with the apoplectic Buddy the Wonder Pooch.  He rewarded my absence by promptly clawing my chin in his energetic greeting. 

We went directly home because there was definitely a Cracker Barrel there (at least there was when we left).  I didn’t even go upstairs when we dropped Buddy off, which confused the hell out of him.  We made a bee line to Cracker Barrel and finally achieved lunch/dinner, despite the efforts of a surly waitress, accompanied by their matchless biscuits.  The manager even offered free desserts because of the waitress but we declined in order to get home and watch the Red Sox demolish the Oakland A’s.  The A’s had so many former Red Sox on the field that it looked like an old timers game.

I pause to reflect on the weekend spent in New Orleans. I had never been to this great city before, one of the few US major cities that I had not seen (San Diego and Phoenix remain).  This was the perfect time of year to visit because there was none of the humidity or bugs a friend warned me about.  It was warm enough for the Bourbon Street ladies to display their wares, so to speak, which was a definite plus.  The World War 2 Museum is an absolute must see for anybody visiting the Big Easy.  The coolest thing was that everything was in fairly “easy” walking distance (my wife would disagree on this).  I really liked New Orleans because of the controlled chaos and unapologetic excess.  We crammed a lot in over the weekend but it was time so well spent.

New Orleans - My Kind of Town

Well spent because of that magnificent group of Americans – the Roothuggers (which includes the wives).  As we said our goodbyes it felt like I was saying farewell to beloved brothers and sisters instead of mere friends because that’s what they’ve come to mean to me.  I will be reluctant to return to New Orleans because there is no way any trip could top this past weekend with the Roothuggers.

Going Out in Style – New Orleans Day 3

Yesterday was the last full day of the 2013 Roothugger reunion in New Orleans.  The first event of the day was something I was really looking forward to – a visit to see the World War 2 Museum.  This is a fairly new museum and it was fascinating to see some of the new concepts being used to make the experience much more interactive.  There were dozens of side booths as you made you way through the war years where you could listen to the recorded survivors from all sides relate their own experiences in the war.  We also got to meet in person a paratrooper who jumped into France for D-Day.  He was extremely pleased to meet some fellow airborne personnel.

The WW2 Museum

My Wife and I in a German Bomb Shelter

The intrepid Roothugger who made most of the arrangements for the reunion adamantly encouraged all of us to see the movie Beyond All Boundaries in the Solomon Victory Theater at the museum and boy was he right.  This was one of the most impressive multi-media experiences I’ve ever had.  Tom Hanks was involved as the narrator and there were sound effects, smells of the battlefield, shaking seats when the tanks went by and heat and light for the bombs.  Different props would appear in conjunction with the events in the screen.  When they talked about the Battle of the Bulge it actually snowed inside the theater.  This was really something very, very special.  If you’re ever in New Orleans make time to see this remarkable film.  At the end I stood up to clap and said “Wow!”  I wasn’t the only one saying this.

Awesome Experience - Beyond All Boundaries

Sadly we had to say goodbye following the museum to the first of the Roothuggers to depart.  Their departure left a hole in the group that would require alcohol to repair.  As we walked away from the museum the designated Roothugger Joker somehow learned a Norwegian cruise liner was docked in town and would leave that afternoon on a one way cruise to Sweden. He spent the entire walk and the rest of the afternoon trying to convince us to take the cruise.  

Lunch Site

We wandered back towards the waterfront looking for a late lunch.  We placed the ladies in charge of selecting the site and they over-achieved to say the least.  I was a little nervous when we passed in front of a restaurant with the name Manning on it – anathema to all Patriots fans. The ladies brought us into the Ernst Café which had an absolutely gorgeous and friendly waitress named April.  By the end of lunch we had almost her entire life story and she did a great job of making some middle aged gentlemen feel special – without pissing off the wives.

On the Ferry - Cruise Ship in the Distance

After lunch we drifted over to the Riverwalk to inquire about taking a cruise on a paddle wheeler plying the waters from there – the Joker needed water under his feet for some reason.  The schedule did not work out so continued on until we found ourselves on the Canal Street Ferry which provided free passage across the river.  The Joker achieved his driving need to get out on the water and two comely local ladies acted as tour guides informing us that passage was in fact free and would deposit us across the river in Algiers which had a couple of bars close by (say no more).

Setting Out on the Ferry - Joker on the Left

View of Jackson Square from the Ferry on the Mississippi

A Paddle Wheeler that Passed Us

We spent an hour at the aforementioned bar which was definitely a local scene based on the looks we received during our tenure there.  Roothuggers don’t intimidate easily so with the Joker leading the way we spent an enjoyably quiet round of drinks before jumping back onto the ferry to return to the hotel. 

The Bar in Algiers

We gathered for the farewell dinner at Gordon Biersch Brewery which was part of the Harrah’s Casino.  The maître d' said she could only get us seating in the bar area.  We said we would ranger our way through that onerous situation.  The intrepid planner of the reunion was suffering a bad headache but he carried on and maintained his role as the brains of the outfit.  Like everything this past weekend the dinner was perfect – a group of like minded friends who seemed more like brothers and sisters than mere friends. 

 

Farewell Dinner - Such Great People

We didn’t want the night to end so we hit a sports bar adjacent to the hotel for one last round of beers before we retired for the early morning flights and departures.  It was kind of bittersweet because we all realized a very special time was drawing to a close. No one volunteered to demonstrate their prowess with the large speckled hula hoop so we called it a night.  There was a frantic redistribution of remaining alcohol stocks to those Roothuggers driving instead of flying home before we settled down.

Roothuggers Leaving Sports Bar

A truly fantastic weekend, finally experiencing New Orleans but much more so because of the time with this group.  I love em all.

Our Fabulous Hotel - Minus Cheerleaders on Final Day