Nick in 3F

I decided to finally leave the apartment Monday night and check out some of the surrounding areas. To date, I must admit that I've been rather cautious where I go, at least after the sun goes down. Don't misunderstand me; I feel perfectly safe where I live. That being said, it's difficult not to heed the warnings of the locals when they tell so many tales of robberies, muggings, and assaults on persons in the metro New Orleans area. There are at least a two dozen bars/restaurants/shops all within close walking distance of my house, but there are many dark, poorly lit areas between the house and the shops/bars, and I just don't feel comfortable yet walking alone, at night, down the street. I had no excuses not to go out on Monday, however, since my friend Tasha is in town visiting her family this week.

Tasha and I visited at the apartment for awhile before heading out. We became friends at the office in Atlanta when she joined the staff in 2007. She grew up in New Orleans and relocated to Atlanta during Hurricane Katrina (if I remember correctly). T is a great woman, so strong, and she's got an Afro the size of all outside when she wears her hair out. She often reminds me of Foxy Brown because she's wonderfully tall, has the most beautiful, perfect skin you've ever seen, and a smile that could warm even the coldest heart. She's got a great spirit and personality too, and since she's originally from here, it meant a lot to me when she commented how wonderful she thought my new place was.

Our first stop was to the bar across the street from the apartment, the Irish Garden Club. It was Monday night, so I wasn't anticipating a large crowd. There were maybe a dozen or so patrons inside, all men w/the exception of one woman and the bartender. I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting as far as the people inside the bar were concerned. My house isn't extremely far from Tulane and Loyola and most of the people I've seen up and down Magazine Street are college/grad school-age and your typical DINK's (Double Income, No Kids) . In my naivety, I reckon I was thinking the crowd would be, more or less, close to my age range. The folks in this bar? NOTHING like that. The bar itself was clean and the people all very friendly and nice, but even in the remarkably dim light of this establishment, most of these people looked like they'd lived incredibly fast, hard lives. They could, conceivably, have been late 20's-mid 30's but you'd never know it by their faces. Say it with me people "Moisturizer!". One of my neighbors actually brought his giant dog inside the bar! While neither Tasha nor I are afraid of dogs, this one was jumping on everyone and grabbed a guy's arm in his mouth, so we were a bit intimidated.

Chris, the bartender, was very nice girl who's lived in New Orleans her whole life (w/the exception of 2 years surrounding Hurricane Katrina when she lived in Houston,TX). T and I chatted her up some. I told her that I lived just across the street and as soon as she found this out, she was more than diligent at calling over some of my neighbors who were also inside. She introduced me to some man, who's name I frankly cannot recall, and then introduced me to Nick. Nick is a young guy (or at least, he was one of the few that appeared so in this bar), maybe 23ish? Blonde, short, good handshake, and very friendly. He's a waiter at the Red Fish Grill down the in Quarter. We're talking and laughing, making small talk-me being my usual charming self. It's at this point that he tells me he lives above me in 3F. Upon learning this information, as is my typical MO (shooting straight from the hip), I responded to his comment with "Oh, so you'd be the guy that woke me up at three in the morning a couple weeks ago!". He looked both appalled and uncomfortable. In reality, I was trying to make light of it (well, sort of). I generally try not to hold onto things that irritate me that I simply have no control over-it's a waste of too much energy. After apologizing profusely, Nick seemed to brush off my rather brash comment and even went so far as to invite himself over to my house for St Patrick's Day (the house is right on the parade route and I have my own balcony) !

At least I know two of my neighbors now! Baby steps, my friends. Baby Steps.