Part 2: The object

Shrimp. French-fried potatoes and coleslaw. The strongest hurricanes in the state of Lousiana. Mouth watering and eyes darting, pausing on any one item just long enough to register it in my mental databank. I chose the best spot at the table – my back to the wall, the entire restaurant spread out before me like a visual buffet. I devour every sight and smell of New Orleans, for I have no idea when I’ll make it back to this carnival of a city. A smiling waiter flits between each of my dinnermates, eager to offer suggestions and amuse us with antecdotes and boast about the superb quality of each item on the menu. Orders are taken, drinks, traditional hurricanes in classically elegant glasses, brought to the linen draped table, and then the waiter relaxes. He need only to look at our untanned skin and hear our Midwestern accents to know we are tourists. Inquiries shoot from his mouth and we answer them as quickly and as best as we can. We’re from Wisconsin, here to do charity work, and we’ve all fallen in love with the city. His eyes light up at our last comment and he darts from the table without a word. We are left puzzled, eyes glancing amongst ourselves, wondering. He returns with souvenirs for us, cheap plastic keychains with the name of our location inscribed on them. With genuine pride and childlike enthusiasm, he grandly presents one to each of us, as though we were receiving the crown jewels or the key to some lost city. The tacky momentos would later grace house keys, car keys, and a myriad of other objects. We would find ourselves opening the doors to our rooms or cursing unyielding engines on cold winter days, shiny metal and plastic tangles in hand, and the black and gold of this Bourbon Street momento would surface. This tiny object holds the warmth of the pleasantly bright March sun, the intoxication of alcohol, and the cheesy glitz of the strings of baubles we draped ourselves with on St. Patrick’s Day. It stands as an memorial to our passionate but brief love affair with N’Awlins.

(image exercise from English 274, copyrighted 1/22/04, Jen Mood)