NOTE: This restaurant is now closed
August 28 – I’m sitting outside of the Bourbon Street Bordello. Not in the Big Easy, but in lovely downtown Greenville. It isn’t a real bordello, in the commonly accepted sense of the word, but a New Orleans-themed restaurant that used to be called Betty Pearle’s Bordello. I had been wanting to try this place, but Laura has an intense aversion to anything related to New Orleans. I guess now’s my chance.
It’s very quiet on Main Street on a Monday night in August. Really too hot to be sitting out here, and the mosquitoes are abominable. So, why am I sitting out here? I was really trying to get a WiFi connection, but I guess I’m too far up the street. I got one of those cool Kensington WiFi sniffers, but left it in the car. Without a clear signal , I may just have to trade the stifling mosquito-infested outside for whatever awaits inside.
I ordered a Killians on tap, a glass of water, and Chicken Jambalaya. They had a tuna special that sounded great, but it seems like I’ve had lots of seafood lately. Odd that I got chicken when what I really wanted for dinner tonight was steak. Snap decisions, impulse dining. My food has arrived, and I’m staring squarely into the stalky eyes of a whole crayfish, sitting right in the middle of my plate. He has got to go. I set him to the side, turning him away from me so he doesn’t have to watch me eat and I don’t have to make polite conversation.
Traffic is still light, the mosquitoes are still bad, and my tasty meal is now gone. My crayfish friend no longer need feel awkward since he isn’t eating, too (nor being eaten), so we watch the foot traffic while I finish my beer. A trio of young black males passes by, each grasping their beltline to keep their baggy pants from falling to their ankles. Oh, the high price of being cool.