Of Bugs and Bourbon

Ever wonder what happens to the organic souvenirs that Customs confiscates from tourists upon returning from Costa Rica? We’ve all tried to get through Customs and have been relieved of our treasures over the years. I once met a catholic priest who actually got on a plane in Costa Rica with a parrot perched on his shoulder and almost made it all the way through to NYC– until he tried clearing Customs at Kennedy, where he was relieved of his companion. So, what do they do with all the butterflies, awesome spiders, sci-fi beetles and orchids (you bad boy!) that you tried so hard to smuggle across the border? Well, in New Orleans, they’ve taken the whole lot of them and put them on display in a museum, which just happens to be located next door to us here on N. Peters St!

The Feds have been renovating the massive granite Customs Building for years now, and we just thought that it would continue serving as the Customs Building. But Gerry learned from a very good source – taxi driver just arrived here from Nigeria – that the Feds have relocated Customs to a new building and that the building next door will soon open as an Insectarium!

Instantly, I had the answer to the question that has nagged us naughty naturalists for years! Gerry and I walked over there and peaked in the windows just to confirm and, sure enough, we could see big displays of butterflies and a whole range of insects sure to delight both entomologists and kids! We will soon have a wonderful place to go when we miss El Tigre. You might not see monkeys every day in the forest but you will definitely see a range of mouth-dropping insects! All thanks to you smuggling tourists! Okay, maybe I’m just speculating on how Customs got their hands on such a massive collection, but even the somewhat impaired logico-deductive thinking of a Bourbon Street drunk would lead to that conclusion.

Last night, we walked down Bourbon Street on our way home from the Erin Rose bar. It’s our place for a frozen Irish coffee, if we don’t have the energy to walk all the way down Decatur to Molly’s. The Frozen Irish is great at both places – a marvelous ice-cream dessert for the alcoholically inclined... Molly’s is also a must if you like cats – she has a beauty who sits on the bar.

Most residents avoid Bourbon Street – they head over to Frenchmen Street for good music and local crowds. But I still like wandering Bourbon Street and mingling with the tourists after dinner for one of the best free shows in the country. Some jack-ass wrote somewhere that Bourbon Street is one of the 10 top tourist traps in the country. What a load of crap! You don’t have to spend a nickel on Bourbon Street for entertainment, although the street performers do appreciate the tips. As the leader of a spectacular acrobatic-dance group said last night with a wicked smile on his face, “If you’re not generous with your tips, we’ll just have to go back to doing what we did before – visiting your homes when you’re not there…” After spending months in solitary tranquility in the forest, I feel that Bourbon gives me a chance to reconnect with humanity without actually, well, connecting. Gerald retorts: “Sure, if your idea of humanity is drunks, whores and thugs!”

Well, it’s true that you wouldn’t take your kids there after 6PM and, ladies, don’t go by yourself if you don’t want to get accosted (before 10PM) and assaulted (after midnight).

I’m starting to feel better. Still coughing a lot when I talk too much or stay up to late - as I found out last night…