Thursday, The Party

For The Year Before the Flood at the Mother-in-Law Lounge.  Much had to be accomplished before the doors opened (and after the party's officially over, i.e., the open bar closed, the food all eaten), and no way could it have been taken care of alone.  Fortunately, there are many friends on the ground who enthusiastically, generously helped.

Betty (Antoinette K-Doe's daughter -- Antoinette died on Mardi Gras Morning this year, as may be recalled) did an incredible job -- but she didn't have any help -- she organized the Mother-In-Law for the party by herself, including the outdoor space where the Stooges played; she acquired and prepared all the food, and kept the kettles and so on replenished until the food was all gone, kept the area clean and neat and supplied -- AND she did the open bar alone too!  She is wonderful.

As this is New Orleans, there must be drama, which I accordingly supplied.  Not long before we were to start out, collecting the books from Piety Street to bring over to the MIL, get a supply of change, etc.  I misjudged the bottom step of the stairs and nearly broke my head.  What I did do was come down hard on my heel that is often in pain due to the damaged cervical and sacral vertabrae blahblahblah.  For a scary time I couldn't walk.  The pain was more than severe.  I wasn't going to make the party.  Who would take the photos?   Eventually condition improved enough that I could hobble around, though I attempted to disguise the hobble as much as possible.  Still, the party for me was dominated by this painful hobble ... but hobble and photograph I did.  (All the photos are still in Vaquero's laptop -- there hasn't been time to send them to me; just what was sent to publisher for their own purposes.)  Nevertheless, the subsequent 8 hours, mostly on my feet, and then on that torture device called a stool at Marky's for the after-party party, screwed me seriously.

Someone who had gone on one of the Cuba trips flew in from Maine for this party.  She was at the Garden District event.  Agent was there, of course -- she flew in from, I think Chicago, took a cab directly to the MIL.  So did AP, a friend here in NYC.  A friend from Maryland, and some others had come for the party.  Wow!.  TR generously donated his bug spray, which I stashed under the signing table, for anyone who needed it.  Mosquitos.  And the doors were open, due to the band, and because this is New Orleans and it is a party.  Which made the party so great, because there was great circulation and flow.  With many tables and seating out in the patio-lawn, people could sit down, or they could dance; they could also sit in the room where the bar is.  In other words, though so well attended, it was comfortable.  The MIL is a terrific party space and we recommend it highly to anyone, without a single reservation.

Already mentioned was the Fats Domino - Elvis Presley autographed photo, but not mentioned so far is the attendence of Coco Robicheaux, who knows how to make women feel good.  He is a master of having a good time, despite the many tragedies in his life.  In other words, this is that heaven on earth, that "Go Bang" moment.

What is "I Wanna Go Bang" you may ask?  It's taken from an Arthur Russell disco hit (Arthur died so early, in that first wave of AIDS deaths in the 80's), "I Wanna Go Bang."  Other friends provided vocals and vocal effects.  There is a bit that goes something like this:  I want to be with all my friends at once. I wanna go bang."  Like Mardi Gras day, this party is a Go Bang.  We are with all our friends at once.  I tried to introduce everyone to each other, though mostly everyone already knew each other.  This is New Orleans.

This was also the one day in 3 months, TR says, that it didn't rain.

I managed to get a few decent photos.

Later some of us retired to Marky's -- It right by Bingham's Piety Street and TR's house.  Everyone was very happy.

The hardest thing was over.

But there was much, much more to do.

We were not getting much sleep, and we weren't eating hardly at all, because there just wasn't time.

We were moving into that state in which hysterical laughter got easier and easier to provoke.