"New Orleans is Hawt as Hell in da Summatime"

                I triumphantly arrived to Uptown New Orleans at 12:07 p.m. July 29, 2008.  The AC in the old CR-V struggled to keep up with the heat the entire journey.  As I opened the door and flew out into the busy little street, nearly getting run down by the cars driving TOO FAST, I noticed I was kind of gross.  I quickly found out that no one really cares what you look like there.  There’s no point in putting make-up on when the humidity is 100% EVERY DAY.  New Orleans= hipsterville, no make-up, no deodorant, no problem.  Hell, just dred-up your locks and you’ll be just fine.

                As I was opening the iron gate to the old house, an elderly black gentleman walked past me and sang out, “Sheeeew, New Orleans is HAWT AS HELL in da summatime”.  I would later learn the appropriate response to this proclamation would have been, “YEA, YOU RIGHT!”

                So, here’s the thing about knowing everything when you are 20, you really don’t know crap. The euphoria of life is from the confidence in believing that you want or want to do something.  When you finally get slapped by the icy pimp hand of reality, elementary knowledge starts to sink in once again.  Remember that $1500 dollars I had saved up?  Not QUITE enough to find a place right off the bat.  The cheapest apartment I could find was $750, plus $750 for deposit. It’s basic math, 750 plus 750 equals 1500, equals broke. This also equals no gas money, no smokes, no student loan payment, for which I do not have a degree to show for, by the way, and no cell phone payment.  I obviously couldn’t afford to use all of my savings right from the get go, so I set out to get myself in the NOLA workforce. It was like eating a big old slice of humble pie that I couldn’t even afford to eat HA.

 I started to notice a few snags in my master plan. No one wanted to hire a waitress with only 2 ½ months experience.  I applied to every restaurant up and down St. Charles Ave. in the BLISTERING heat sweating my buns off. The service industry is the heart and soul of New Orleans, and nearly every person that I met while there was a member of the force or had been at some point in their lives. However, everywhere I went the story was the same, “sorry, we’re in our slow months, come back in October”.  October!? I didn’t have time to lose, and I’ve never been the type to be easily broken.   After the third day of “so sorry”, I decided to see what was up on craigslist.  There wasn’t very much to choose from, but, I noticed a post that read “Bistro seeking back waiters and servers”.  Happenstance.

                Of course I clicked on the link, and in doing so, I ultimately set forth my path in motion.  No, I didn’t know what a back waiter was, but I surely wanted to be one.  The ad was very brief, only stating “Small restaurant on Magazine seeking back waiters and servers.  Please call for more information 555-555-5555. “ So I called, and spoke with a very nice lady who invited me to come for an interview. 

                The Lord has blessed me with the ability to smile through it all.  Honey, did I EVER smile as I sat down with the owner and she asked me a few questions.  I feel like it was my saving grace, for a few years later as I was going through my file I stumbled across a note on my application that said “very bubbly personality, nice smile”.  Needless to say, I was hired.  My philosophy: your uniform is not complete without a smile…..even if it is sequins.  I have my high school years to thank for that.

                This interview was on a Tuesday, August 12, 2008 to be exact.  My first day was the next day, Wednesday, August 13.  I was asked to wear black slacks and a nice bright blouse and to show up at 10:00 a.m.  So, I did. Thus began the beginning of a journey that would test my limits, thicken my skin, and introduce me to the most vivid characters I had ever been exposed to.  Welcome to New Orleans, Megan.