Scary! (Part III)
[Editor's Note: In an attempt to upgrade this waste of space from no-tech to low-tech, this week's blog entry carries with it a real, live audio track. It's the very best in mid-90s sound technology, what the kids are calling a ".wav file". If we've done our homework correctly, the recording quality will be pretty abominable, it should take about twenty minutes to download and it will hardly be worth it in the end. Nevertheless, the song we have chosen is one that is pertinent to the story and, incidentally, complies with the CRTC Canadian Content laws (some nice boys from Kingston Ontario helped us out). Please enjoy responsibly. Or if you'd rather not bother, we'd understand completely. You are, after all, a busy person. We now return you to your previously scheduled blog entry.]
My New Orleans ghost story may not have been all that frightening, but this next story should creep you out good and proper.
One fine, bright morning in New Orleans my friends and I decided to split up for a few hours and do some solo sightseeing/shopping, etc. We agreed to meet back at the Cafe du Monde for some beignets and coffee afterwards. The cafe is the tres chic open restaurant that you must go to when visiting the French Quarter, darling! You simply must!
Well, I wasn't as gung ho to shop as my friends so I reached the cafe before they did. It was a Saturday morning and the place was quite packed. We were supposed to have met just outside the cafe, but since it seemed we may never get a table if we waited till we were all there, I grabbed one in the middle of the restuarant as it became available and sat down to wait.
I finally spotted Deborah. She was wearing sunglasses and standing at the perimeter of the restaurant looking in. It looked as if she was staring right at me. I stood up and waved around moronically at her for a few minutes, but she showed no signs of recognition. So I sat down resignedly and ordered coffee and doughnuts.
It's a strange feeling when you're in the middle of a crowded area trying to get the attention of someone outside of that area (it would have been folly to leave the table - after all, some vulture might have taken it if it were unattended for even a split second). Someone sitting beside me, not seeing the big picture, might think that I was simply standing up and waving around like a moron. I knew what I was doing was reasonable, but they might not have. It's funny how the idea that someone you don't even know thinks you're being foolish that makes you feel, well, a bit foolish. You get the idea that you'd like to explain yourself to whoever will listen. "I'm trying to get my friend's attention. I don't usually, you know, just stand and gesticulate wildy for no good reason. Heheh."
As I sat there contemplating this silliness, there was some sort of commotion going on behind me. I heard something like "I'll get the manager" and there was a buzz of waitstaff. I didn't really pay attention because I began to try to burn holes into my friend telepathically in hopes of finally getting her attention. I did notice four big unsmiling men moving tables around and generally looking like they meant business, but I assumed it was because there was some big party coming in. It was really busy in there.
Deborah had taken off her glasses and so I decided to stand up and try to get her attention again, once more risking that faintly silly feeling. It was at this point that a man and his wife and kids walked past me very briskly. I smiled at them politely, as if to say "I, uh, I'm trying to get my friend's attention... heheh, I'm not having an episode or anything... heheh." But they barely noticed me for all my expressive smiling.
I thought the guy looked familiar, though. And as soon as they swept by I realized that it was Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley (this was pre-marriage/pre-divorce, remember. The whole time we were in New Orleans we had heard wild rumours about their being there as well. I guess this proved that they actually were there, and indeed were "seeing" each other.) They sat at the table behind me while the four unsmiling men stood sentry at each corner around the table, being completely and utterly inconspicuous.
However, I tried hard not to even look in the direction of the mega super-duper stars. I don't know if it's because I'm Canadian or not, but I get very embarrassed for celebrities, even ones I don't much care for. I mean, even though they obviously court public recognition and all of that, they're just out for coffee and doughnuts with their kids for goodness sake. Plus, the doughnuts they serve at the Cafe du Monde are really sugary. If you're not extremely careful you'll get a huge facefull of powdery white sugar as you take even the smallest bite. That's gotta be disconcerting when you know everyone is looking at you, I don't care how big a mega super-duper star you are. (I am extremely shocked that there was not an Enquirer photog there to snap a pic at exactly the right time. I had expected to see a CAGE AND PRESLEY IN DRUGGED OUT SEX ROMP!! headline shortly after the episode.)
But my real point in not paying them any mind was who really cares? Just then one of the cleaners, a wrinkled up old black man of about 105 or so, pushed past with a mop muttering, "Damn fools... he just a man... he put his pants on one leg at a time just like the res' of us. Shoot!" to which I laughed in agreement. His manager however said sternly but quietly "That's enough".
By this time Michelle had joined Deborah and they actually saw me and headed over. As they walked toward me I beamed in vindication at the few tables around me. No one, however, knew I existed now that stars were here (if in fact they ever did). Deborah and Michelle were very excited about something. It seems Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley were possibly in the limo outside! I directed their attention to the table behind me and they sat star-struck for a minute.
As my friends ordered, I took a moment to look around me. The whole restaurant was in a commotion. People were not trying to take surreptitious peeks at the celebs, they were out-and-out staring. Standing up to get a better look, walking over to stand and gawk, pointing, taking videos and still pictures. Just generally being repugnant. They sat dopily staring, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. The worst part of it was that in my position in front of the celebrities it almost felt like they were staring at me, and I got a very creepy feeling. How awful it must be to live like that. Ugh. This is the sort of thing they must encounter everywhere they go and every time they want to do something as simple as go to a cafe. I mean, yes, they made a huge production out of going to get coffee what with the bodyguards and the securing of the perimeter and the whatnot, but still. They were with kids. Not many people seemed to want to give them any privacy whatsoever.
My friends and I tried to finish our doughnuts and coffee in peace, me ignoring the situation as best I could, they keeping an unobtrusive eye each on the stars behind me. Finally there was another commotion. The celebrities, having not had to wait for surly service like the rest of us mere mortals, were done their coffee and were heading out the door. I watched my friends watch the stars and their entourage move out of the place. There was another little commotion after they had left. Then Deborah said, "I knew someone would do something like that". And even though I dreaded the answer, I asked her what she meant. "Someone went over and took his styrofoam cup."
I was stunned. What in the name of all that is good, decent and pure in this world...!? They took their garbage? What is wrong with people? Then I turned around and saw a twenty-something woman run over to the newly vacant seats and sit down. "Wow! I'm sitting where Nicolas Cage sat!! Giggle, jibber, drool!!" More of the same ensued with other patrons and various waitstaff for about ten minutes until I was good and nauseous.
We left shortly thereafter. I felt drained. I had come for a little taste of something I had never experienced, and the little bistro certainly didn't disappoint. I left the cafe a little wiser... a little sadder... but ultimately, with white powder all over my face and shirt.
[Editor's Note: In an attempt to upgrade this waste of space from no-tech to low-tech, this week's blog entry carries with it a real, live audio track. It's the very best in mid-90s sound technology, what the kids are calling a ".wav file". If we've done our homework correctly, the recording quality will be pretty abominable, it should take about twenty minutes to download and it will hardly be worth it in the end. Nevertheless, the song we have chosen is one that is pertinent to the story and, incidentally, complies with the CRTC Canadian Content laws (some nice boys from Kingston Ontario helped us out). Please enjoy responsibly. Or if you'd rather not bother, we'd understand completely. You are, after all, a busy person. We now return you to your previously scheduled blog entry.]
My New Orleans ghost story may not have been all that frightening, but this next story should creep you out good and proper.
One fine, bright morning in New Orleans my friends and I decided to split up for a few hours and do some solo sightseeing/shopping, etc. We agreed to meet back at the Cafe du Monde for some beignets and coffee afterwards. The cafe is the tres chic open restaurant that you must go to when visiting the French Quarter, darling! You simply must!
Well, I wasn't as gung ho to shop as my friends so I reached the cafe before they did. It was a Saturday morning and the place was quite packed. We were supposed to have met just outside the cafe, but since it seemed we may never get a table if we waited till we were all there, I grabbed one in the middle of the restuarant as it became available and sat down to wait.
I finally spotted Deborah. She was wearing sunglasses and standing at the perimeter of the restaurant looking in. It looked as if she was staring right at me. I stood up and waved around moronically at her for a few minutes, but she showed no signs of recognition. So I sat down resignedly and ordered coffee and doughnuts.
It's a strange feeling when you're in the middle of a crowded area trying to get the attention of someone outside of that area (it would have been folly to leave the table - after all, some vulture might have taken it if it were unattended for even a split second). Someone sitting beside me, not seeing the big picture, might think that I was simply standing up and waving around like a moron. I knew what I was doing was reasonable, but they might not have. It's funny how the idea that someone you don't even know thinks you're being foolish that makes you feel, well, a bit foolish. You get the idea that you'd like to explain yourself to whoever will listen. "I'm trying to get my friend's attention. I don't usually, you know, just stand and gesticulate wildy for no good reason. Heheh."
As I sat there contemplating this silliness, there was some sort of commotion going on behind me. I heard something like "I'll get the manager" and there was a buzz of waitstaff. I didn't really pay attention because I began to try to burn holes into my friend telepathically in hopes of finally getting her attention. I did notice four big unsmiling men moving tables around and generally looking like they meant business, but I assumed it was because there was some big party coming in. It was really busy in there.
Deborah had taken off her glasses and so I decided to stand up and try to get her attention again, once more risking that faintly silly feeling. It was at this point that a man and his wife and kids walked past me very briskly. I smiled at them politely, as if to say "I, uh, I'm trying to get my friend's attention... heheh, I'm not having an episode or anything... heheh." But they barely noticed me for all my expressive smiling.
I thought the guy looked familiar, though. And as soon as they swept by I realized that it was Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley (this was pre-marriage/pre-divorce, remember. The whole time we were in New Orleans we had heard wild rumours about their being there as well. I guess this proved that they actually were there, and indeed were "seeing" each other.) They sat at the table behind me while the four unsmiling men stood sentry at each corner around the table, being completely and utterly inconspicuous.
However, I tried hard not to even look in the direction of the mega super-duper stars. I don't know if it's because I'm Canadian or not, but I get very embarrassed for celebrities, even ones I don't much care for. I mean, even though they obviously court public recognition and all of that, they're just out for coffee and doughnuts with their kids for goodness sake. Plus, the doughnuts they serve at the Cafe du Monde are really sugary. If you're not extremely careful you'll get a huge facefull of powdery white sugar as you take even the smallest bite. That's gotta be disconcerting when you know everyone is looking at you, I don't care how big a mega super-duper star you are. (I am extremely shocked that there was not an Enquirer photog there to snap a pic at exactly the right time. I had expected to see a CAGE AND PRESLEY IN DRUGGED OUT SEX ROMP!! headline shortly after the episode.)
But my real point in not paying them any mind was who really cares? Just then one of the cleaners, a wrinkled up old black man of about 105 or so, pushed past with a mop muttering, "Damn fools... he just a man... he put his pants on one leg at a time just like the res' of us. Shoot!" to which I laughed in agreement. His manager however said sternly but quietly "That's enough".
By this time Michelle had joined Deborah and they actually saw me and headed over. As they walked toward me I beamed in vindication at the few tables around me. No one, however, knew I existed now that stars were here (if in fact they ever did). Deborah and Michelle were very excited about something. It seems Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley were possibly in the limo outside! I directed their attention to the table behind me and they sat star-struck for a minute.
As my friends ordered, I took a moment to look around me. The whole restaurant was in a commotion. People were not trying to take surreptitious peeks at the celebs, they were out-and-out staring. Standing up to get a better look, walking over to stand and gawk, pointing, taking videos and still pictures. Just generally being repugnant. They sat dopily staring, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. The worst part of it was that in my position in front of the celebrities it almost felt like they were staring at me, and I got a very creepy feeling. How awful it must be to live like that. Ugh. This is the sort of thing they must encounter everywhere they go and every time they want to do something as simple as go to a cafe. I mean, yes, they made a huge production out of going to get coffee what with the bodyguards and the securing of the perimeter and the whatnot, but still. They were with kids. Not many people seemed to want to give them any privacy whatsoever.
My friends and I tried to finish our doughnuts and coffee in peace, me ignoring the situation as best I could, they keeping an unobtrusive eye each on the stars behind me. Finally there was another commotion. The celebrities, having not had to wait for surly service like the rest of us mere mortals, were done their coffee and were heading out the door. I watched my friends watch the stars and their entourage move out of the place. There was another little commotion after they had left. Then Deborah said, "I knew someone would do something like that". And even though I dreaded the answer, I asked her what she meant. "Someone went over and took his styrofoam cup."
I was stunned. What in the name of all that is good, decent and pure in this world...!? They took their garbage? What is wrong with people? Then I turned around and saw a twenty-something woman run over to the newly vacant seats and sit down. "Wow! I'm sitting where Nicolas Cage sat!! Giggle, jibber, drool!!" More of the same ensued with other patrons and various waitstaff for about ten minutes until I was good and nauseous.
We left shortly thereafter. I felt drained. I had come for a little taste of something I had never experienced, and the little bistro certainly didn't disappoint. I left the cafe a little wiser... a little sadder... but ultimately, with white powder all over my face and shirt.
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