Night of Louisiana

I spent this past Saturday evening in the company of my divine, hilarious, but-getting-old younger sister Angela. Together we danced the night away to Cajun music, played by some saucy Louisiana hotties: the Lost Bayou Ramblers. I've come to two conclusions: 1) the accordion is dead sexy, and 2) crazy people can't be faulted for their craziness, but they can be blamed for not taking their meds.

I came to the first conclusion in an obvious manner, by watching a smokingly talented boy armed with an instrument and a charming accent play a two-hour long set of fun tunes. The world's gotta respect a man whose music can make people waltz and smile.

I came to the second conclusion in a less obvious manner. At Night of Louisiana, people sit at long picnic-like tables, so even if you sit across from people you don't know, the atmosphere is very congenial and you'll start talking eventually. This is what happened with myself, Angela, our friend Dan, and the woman who was sitting across from us. What follows is an approximation of her conversation with us:

Crazy Lady (CL): Had you been to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina?
Me: Uh, no. I've never been to New Orleans.
CL: Well, do you speak French? (at this very moment, the band was playing a Creole song)
Me: Uh, no.
CL: Well, you really ought to learn a foreign language...
Me: I minored in Spanish.
CL: (rattles off something in Spanish, not sure what, but maybe heard the phrase Rico Suave somewhere in it) Forget about Spanish! You should learn Mandarin Chinese. You know how many Chinese people there are in the world?!
Me: Yeah, good point...

CL gets up to "dance". Her version of this consisted of walking around the dance floor in a circle, and then stopping every few feet to gallop and flutter her feet. Angela and I are laughing. CL comes back and sits down.

CL: WOW! What a great band! And they're just kids!
Angela: Yeah, they're really good. (Angela takes out her cell phone, to send a message to her boyfriend Kevin, who was off playing D and D with some Nerds).
CL: I'm sorry, but could you please be QUIET!
Angela: Uh, my cell phone's on vibrate. You can't even hear it with all the music.
CL: If you have to play with someone's cell phone, play with MINE! (she reaches into her purse, and pulls out a gallon-size Ziploc bag containing her cell phone and all its tangled wires and accessories... then, she walks away)
Angela: What a freak.
Dan: Seriously.
Angela: Let's go sit somewhere else.
(We get up to move, and as we do, CL comes back)
CL: I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so rude, but DON'T TALK TO ME AGAIN UNTIL YOU CAN SPEAK MANDARIN!

There were other things, too, like she told me she was 54, but was a teacher for 28 years, and then a public health nurse for 17. If that were true, that would mean she's been working since age 9. Highly possible if she were a Doogie-Howser-alike, but probably untrue.

The moral of this story is: Even crazy people like Cajun music, but you shouldn't like the crazy people who do.