happy trails

In a thickly accented voice the deeply tanned man, except for his grey hair invisible in the dark recesses of Red’s Levee Bar in Catahoula, asked us if we had ever seen an asshole wrapped in plastic. Already giggling from the whole situation we obviously answered no and then he immediately turned to the old fellow next to him and asked for his driver’s license. We laughed aloud and then, in keeping with the way people talk around here, he repeated the joke and then explained it. He bought us beers. I fetched cigars from the car and gave one out to our friend who lapsed between French and English like it was all one big language and another younger fellow nearer to us who spoke so slowly that we were thankful that the bartender was able to translate for us. Her deeply lined face with its kind eyes would remark caustically to something the man would say, repeat his utterance, though not really for our benefit, and we’d finally understand. The younger man was aglow over the cigar and looked at the label and thanked me more than twice.

The bartender wore a sleeveless house dress that boasted a bold red flower motif and after we ordered our first beer she looked at us and said to us, “I don’t know you. I haven’t met you,” in a voice that sounded slightly disappointed. It felt as if she were able to remember every single person that would grace her teetering bar that was set on a corner of a country road, the levee on one side and a field of sugarcane on the other. We told her our names and explained where we were from and were then forever committed to her internal guest register and that was it! Suddenly we were the highlight of the day for the five people in Red’s, although throughout the fun Janet and I were poking each other in the ribs and giggling because this was the highlight of our day as well. We were having so much fun on this trip. This is what we wanted, this is why we came to Louisiana after all; to immerse ourselves in the culture and food and music, to hear the voices and smell the food and tap our feet in time to the “French Music” and Zydeco. But, I knew this soiree would quickly evolve into more carousing than we were prepared for, especially when a younger woman, wearing hospital scrubs entered Red’s and immediately wanted to buy us beers. She playfully cussed up a storm at the old guys at the bar and called them pedophiles as they pawed at her when she came and then pointed her finger at us and asked what we wanted. The old man who was the butt of the other man’s jokes also tried to buy us beers. But, I begged off them all, apologized profusely, produced a twenty and whispered to the bartender that she was to buy everyone who wanted one a beer and then keep the rest for herself, before bidding all an adieu.
Outside we laughed at Janet’s joyful find. It was after all her choice to stop at Red’s Levee Bar. We turned off the road that skirted the levee and saw Red's with it's door wide open and Janet said that we HAVE to go in for one beer. We could have stayed a lot longer.

We were in the middle of an unplanned day today that was the most delightful of our days so far in Louisiana. We ate at Prejean’s for breakfast, got on that day’s evening local newscast when a cameraman shot some B-roll inside the Lafayette visitor center while we were there (luckily we ducked out of Red’s Levee Bar before that story came on the television or else they would have drugged out the moonshine in our honor…). We went to the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and saw a couple of films; one was about the history of the Cajun people. We drove to Breaux Bridge to walk around, take some pictures and a cup of coffee and to pick up an “I Love Jake Delhomme” sign at the Breaux Bridge visitor’s center. Delhomme, quarterback of the Carolina Panthers, lives down on LA94, a mile past Mulate’s. Janet posed for a picture with our wonderful poster outside of Red’s. We had a quick lunch at Pat’s Fisherman’s wharf Restaurant along a bayou in Henderson and ended our drive by tooling through St. Martinsville, the place where Longfellow set his epic poem Evangeline. As we stopped at the famed Evangeline Oak, Janet insisted on reciting the prelude of the poem and wished Mr. O’Connor, her 7th Grade English teacher, was on hand to witness this recitation.

We did not eat an official dinner that night. Instead we went to hear some Janet music. I say “Janet Music,” but I’m quickly adopting it as well. The Thrift Store Cowboys, a group out of Lubbock, Texas, were playing at the Blue Moon Guest House on Convent Street in Lafayette. The stage was set on the back porch of this house and the group, now down to just two members for this particular trip because one had a conflict with work and the other had a cyst on their leg that needed attention, played their country music with guitars and accordions. We got “dinner” by fetching some red beans and rice from a crock pot on the side of the stage and swilled Abita beers beneath walls decorated with road signs and graffiti. We marveled at our luck yet again at this find and Janet murmured that she wished her daughter, Charlotte, and Casey, her friend, were here to soak this all up.

After the Thrift Store Cowboys were done they mingled in the very small crowd at the Blue Moon and we clapped them on the back and bought their CD. We did not want this day to end so we drove around the streets of Lafayette smoking and listening to the Thrift Store Cowboys. Several times we drove down the “new Bourbon Street” as the lady at the visitor center called Rue Jefferson, to pass the many vibrant bars that are set side by side here before steering the car to our home for the night….

Hey.. if you like (or hate) what you’re reading, leave a comment. We’d love to hear about it.
You can always drop us an email too….
Greg’s email is: greg.dunaj@yahoo.com

Janet’s email is: jalemarsh@gmail.com


Happy trails
-greg