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Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Continued from page 3

A sports bar around the corner seems fun but busy. Probably too loud for the sort of conversation I'm seeking. Aha! A flower shop. Perfect. I walk in to the greeting of a fine old cat stretching itself across a carpeted step, but the clerk is busy with a customer, and I decide to head around the next corner and check out the Catholics.

The Catholic parish of Sts. Peter and Paul, the Lutheran church secretary in the car told me, has a partnership with Trinity Lutheran. The Catholics have the shelter, the Lutherans have the soup kitchen. Maybe all the local governments around here will someday learn to cooperate this well, I fantasize. Nobody seeking the limelight here, just good people taking care of society's needy. But I can't find an unlocked door at the Catholic church, either, and, for some reason -- most likely ignorance -- I have since childhood been a little intimidated by Catholic clergymen, so I decide not to press my luck. I head back to the familiarity of the Lutherans.

On the other hand, I probably appear intimidating to the Lutheran schoolteacher who warily eyes me as I come close to her charges, who are filing out to recess. Still, she offers to help. No, the outreach director isn't here yet.

The outreach director must have unfinished business, I think. He's probably helping a needy person.

Michelle and Staying Cool
Not desiring to appear overly needy myself, I decide to head back to the tavern scene. Across the street at Hennessey's Irish Public House, I go for one last taste of Soulard neighborhood flavor.

I ask Michelle, the bartender at Hennessey's, whether it gets insane around here during Mardi Gras.

"Not just the customers, but us, too," she says of the working staff. Remembering the days when I used to have a drink while tending bar at the Ramada Inn in St. Joe, I ask Michelle whether she imbibes while working during Mardi Gras.

"Sure," she grins, "but you're so busy you don't have time to drink enough to get drunk."

But one guy at Hennessey's this afternoon who's just got paid has had time to get drunk, and he loudly announces that he's buying a round for the house. I stick to orange juice. Michelle looks at me and says under her breath: "You look sane. Do you remember how long ago I called a cab for this guy?" Five or 10 minutes ago, I say.

Michelle deftly deals with the overblown actions of the man with the money. When he overtips her and begins to make a deal over how big a tip it is, she offers to give it back to him. I imagine she could use the extra money, but she plays it cool. Big bucks leaves the bar, and I follow a minute later.

Outside, looking over this neighborhood on a quiet Friday afternoon in January, I think about how crazy it is bound to get in a few weeks. I think about how Michelle kept her cool with the loudmouth.

That's the way to play it in Soulard, I think. Play it cool. There's cool bars and cool houses. A really cool market. And the people are cool -- behind the bar and in the businesses and at the churches.

If I head down here again at Mardi Gras time, I expect it will be a hot time, but I'm hoping everybody, at some level, stays cool.

You see, I don't have mixed feelings about Soulard anymore. I love the place, and I'm feeling a little protective. Have a good time at Mardi Gras, everybody -- but remember to use the Porta-Potties.

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