Wednesday, July 4, 2012.
Taking Off, In Two Senses. Tic Toc.
The Marys left for a couple of weeks on the West Coast. They will spend half their time trying to pry Jude loose from his work (he's in the thick of a few film projects, and is also trying to move), and the other half visiting Mary Ann's sister in Seattle.
I drove them to the airport, even though that required leaving home at five-thirty in the morning. At first, Mary Ann pooh-poohed that as mere posturing on my part. She is slightly miffed that I am not coming on this lark, knowing that it constitutes a mild protest on my part. We have other needs besides six to eight weeks of vacation per year, is my thought. But I know better than to demand that MA stay home when she wants to go.
My ulterior motive for driving them into town: it will save at least $150 in parking fees. Since I am taking off from all three of my full-time jobs for the Fourth of July, I have the time. And I could have breakfast somewhere on the South Shore, which I don't do often enough.
And, of course, we could be a family for the hour.
The first place I considered for breakfast was the Lagniappe Luncheonette, a little place on Airline Highway I've never tried, but which readers and listeners are always touting. Closed for the holiday, though. Next idea: one of those twenty-four-hour places that cluster on the river side of the I-10 at Causeway Boulevard.
The Tic-Toc Café's parking lot was almost full, with a couple of police and fire department cars and others. Under several names, this little place has been in business for at least thirty years. From the looks of it, not much has been done in the way of renovation during that time. The only obvious addition is the door quarantining the video poker machines from the dining room. Even those were as worn out as everything else.
The familiar aroma of oily vapors from the hot grill registered immediately, calling to mind dozens of similar atmospheres in little breakfast joints I've sampled in my travels around America. Maybe the perfect place to be on the Fourth of July, then?
People who mention this place always go on about the omelettes, grilled in the fluffy style made famous by the Camellia Grill. Thought I'd try it at long last. The Mexican version is made with jalapenos, tomatoes, onions, and cheese. It came with a pile of shredded hash browns grilled with shredded onions, and two slices of toast cut into the four familiar triangles.
It was The Café On The Old Highway Outside Of Town in Anywhere, USA. But the food was tolerable, and the waitress and the cook were friendly. All the other customers--including the fireman and the cops--seemed to be regulars. Happy Fourth of July! everybody said.
At home, I worked on a bunch of jobs I don't allow myself to tackle on a real work day. My job gives me a lot of the same satisfaction that a hobby would, although I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.
A huge, noisy, very windy thunderstorm blew through. After it exhausted itself, I headed out for my annual cheeseburger at McDonald's. On an aimless drive on the Fourth of July when I was about thirty, I did that at the McDonald's on Claiborne Hill in Covington. Most years since then, I've repeated the ritual, giving as my motivation the need to eat the most popular restaurant dish in America on our country's birthday.
I vary it from year to year. Last year, it was a double cheeseburger. Year before that, the newly-rolled-our Angus burger, bigger and with more sophisticated garnishes. This year, a Quarter Pounder. It came close to defeating the propensity of McDonald's burgers to be very dry. As usual, my entreaty that I get extra mustard went unheeded. No fries--I've taken myself off that French dish, unless they're fresh cut. Apple pie.
Comment would be superfluous.
The remainder of the day was exquisitely dull. I couldn't even work up a good dream during an elongated nap. The fireworks began exploding at dusk, and went on until eleven. They stopped so suddenly that they must have all been shot off by one guy.
Good thing it rained and wet down the trees. We had a small fire in the woods here on Fourth of July around 1996, and I've been wary of fireworks ever since.
Tic Toc Café. Metairie: 3205 36th St. 504-834-6272.
