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| 25 March 1993 |
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| Cheryl B. Horton 6420 Orleans Avenue New Orleans, LA 70124 |
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| Re: Current Events |
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| Dear Cheri: |
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| Dirty Dancing |
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| The thing about New Orleans is this: If you decide to go to dinner without reservations, and the first and second restaurants you try cannot seat you, you may have to settle for Galatoire's. |
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| It happened to me. Not just to me, but to Denise, my in-laws, and me. All I knew early in the evening was that Adrian C. Benjamin Jr. had attempted to get us a table at the restaurant which once was Marti's. We declined the nine-thirty table offered. |
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| Denise and I picked up Adie and Freddie, and we scooted to N.O.L.A. to dine chic-chic. We pulled to the curb, and I ran in to check on a table. I know enough to know that when they tell you forty-five minutes they mean an hour, so we left and drove by Galatoire's. The light drizzle that had fallen all evening must have contributed to the lack of both locals in line and tourists on line in front of the place. |
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| We had souffle potatoes, shrimp rémoulade, lemon fish topped with crayfish, oysters en brochette. I scoffed my standard: a plate halved by standing triangles of buttered toast with a crayfish dish on either side -- Etoufe and Yvonne. Wine there and there, scotch there, old fashion here. Done. |
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| As we strolled at a sated pace toward the car, enjoying easy conversation, we paused in front of a brassy-looking business on Iberville. After a brief discussion and an unanimous vote, we entered for a drink. |
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| It cost twenty dollars for the four of us to get in. We chose the only vacant table among those crowded in front of the stage. On stage, with its central entrance broadly bordered in white neon and festooned with a wide arch of colored balloons, a tall, beautiful woman in a full-length silver-sequined gown was strutting to loud music. |
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| Another woman carried a short stool up to the table next to ours, had a brief conversation with the three men seated there, placed the stool between my chair and their table, stood on the stool, took off all of her clothes except a g-string which could fit in my watch pocket, and bent deeply at the waist to give them a good view of her rhythmically swaying buttocks. She then turned to face the men and squatted while she squeezed her full breasts between her elbows. The men smiled in appreciation, and each took his turn placing a five or ten dollar bill under the woman's garter -- already stuffed with neatly folded bills. |
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| Everywhere I looked were uncommonly tall women with uncommonly large breasts and about 6% total body fat sashaying around in various stages of undress. Beautiful women. Ooh-la-la women. |
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| After accurately noting that she and Freddie were the only non-dancing, fully clothed females in the Crescent City Cabaret that evening, Denise asked me if it embarrassed me to be there with her and Freddie. |
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| "I haven't noticed," I said. |
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| For Your Own Good |
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| Chris Hemmeter has much style and polish, But five old buildings he wants to demolish. He says, "In the best interest of the city." While natives all think it's quite a pity. |
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| Our Mayor was jetted to the fiftieth state, By C.H., in an effort to facilitate, His O.K. as builder -- on merit -- no doubt. With the wining and dining, Sidney may get gout. |
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| When Denise and I went to buy a house, Each detail of my life and that of my spouse The homestead required and we confessed. They even asked on which side I dressed! |
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| Sidney cried foul and C.H. threw a tirade When his privacy the Council sought to invade By daring to ask for a financial sheet. Louisiana politics can't be beat. |
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| Through the fuss and fray Edwin's worn a grin. No one questions that he'll surely win. In the very near future I fear you should Be able to park where historic bricks once stood. |
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| Please forgive me; I don't mean to be lewd, But look out New Orleans, you're about to get screwed. |
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| More Later, |
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| David J. L'Hoste |
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| DJL/djl |
| cc: Bernard A. Horton Russell B. Ramsey Denise F. L'Hoste Paul D. Cordes Adrian C. Benjamin, Jr. Julie Yoedicke |