Goodbye to the cubicle!

This is Eugene Anderson II, owner and operator of a sweet little coffee and pastry shop called Krewe du Brew. I asked him how he came to be running a coffee shop, and he explained,

"I used to be in IT, and I got tired of it. I had to drink coffee to get through the day, and I was going to places like Starbucks. I got to thinking I could offer better coffee and snacks than I was getting there. I could be my own boss. I could get out of the cubicle. Yeah, that was the thing.

"So here I am. I opened up around Mardi Gras, and I named it Krewe du Brew. At first people thought I was just some kind of Mardi Gras pop-up, but I've proved I'm here to stay. I'm doing well here. During the week my clientele is people from the neighborhood. We have a lot of medical students living around here, and they live on coffee. Over the weekend I get people from the guest houses and small hotels. So all in all, I'm doing great!"

I could feel Eugene's pride and excitement about his business, and I needed it. Last night I came down with a sneezing, snotting, sore-throat, achy cold. Today was my last full day here, and I couldn't bear to stay in bed, so I partook of Eugene's offerings so I could keep on moving. If you're ever in New Orleans, Eugene's coffee shop is on St. Charles between Terpsichore and Euterpe. Drop in and have some coffee and orange blossom cake and admire his spiffy half-goatee.

I went back to the French Quarter and took a couple of hundred architectural shots, eighteen of which I've posted on the other place. I photographed a few more street musicians and found one very sweet old guy sitting on his porch, leaning on the railing and smoking a cigar. He asked me to sit with him a spell, which seemed like a good idea, as by that time I could tell I was running a fever. He asked if I'm married. I said no. He said, "Well, are you lonely?" I said no. "Well honey, I'm lonely, and I don't mind telling the truth about it. This is my house here, I own it. I'm sixty-eight years old, and I need a woman's companionship. I woke up this morning and prayed I could have just one thing. Lord, I said, send me a good woman that wants to take care of a good man. And here you are."

I made a little comical business of looking around behind me and said I thought his order might still be on the way. We laughed, and I asked if I could take his picture, and he said sure. So here he is. He has his own house in the French Quarter and he'd love to share it with the right woman. I didn't get his name.