The Erin Rose, New Orleans.
On our last day in New Orleans, last trip, we stumbled into a bar on the outskirts of the safe district.
This was after hurricane Katrina all but wiped out the birthplace of jazz. Bourbon Street was still half vacant.
The Erin Rose was a local joint. The bartenders and dancers and employees of other NOLA establishments began or ended their day at the Erin Rose. They did not cater so much to tourists as to locals… my kind of dive.
Jack was a bartender with ESP, he knew exactly what you wanted before you asked. We had intended to have a few drinks before our flight left. We have a habit of arriving at the airport two hours before our flight leaves. We leave nothing to chance. Jack changed all that.
Nothing but honest, Jack told us in advance that his goal was to make us miss our flight. A few beers turned into a few beers and a few shots. Then more beers, and more shots. Then more shots. Then he gave us shot glasses and other gifts as we ordered more drinks.
You see, the bartenders at the Erin Rose had a contest going to see who could make the most people miss their flight. The night before, they held a bachelor party captive, and the entire party missed the wedding. All in good clean fun.
We watched as locals came and went, preparing for their shifts or ending their shifts. Yet we stayed. Finally, Liz was the voice of reason and ended our stay. I wanted one more round, and jack agreed. Liz won. We arrived at the plane just as the last passengers were boarding.
When our flight reached Dallas/Fort Worth, we were still drunk. We barely found our connecting flight. When we landed at Philadelphia International Airport, we were still a bit inebriated. But we made it home in one piece.
As much as I like Jack, I am glad he lost that bet!