Initially this was going to be just Wendy and I, but the more she researched the outing, the more intrigued her husband Steve became and he seriously considered coming with us.
This was our maiden voyage and we planned to meet at the lighthouse diner in Gretna for breakfast at 8 a.m. Wendy and I talked on the phone the next morning to confirm we were still going to meet about 8:30. I brushed my teeth, showered and head over the GNO for Breakfast.
Breakfast is always in the mix for us and when I arrived at the Lighthouse Restaurant, Steve was pulling up in the Saturn Vue sans Wendita, aka Wendy, who was already in the restaurant. As I stated before, we weren't sure Steve wanted to participate so seeing them in separate places confused me a bit.
Breakfast was strange and not up to its usually upbeat and efficient personality because the bus staff didn't show up. It took forever for us to get basic utensils and service and put kind of a "dark cloud" on the initial proceedings. If it hadn't been for Steve's supreme optimism that morning and the fact that Wendy can "hang" with just about anything, I think I would have considered calling the event off. I'm such a Yankee! We put it past us though and got on the road at about 10:30 a.m.
Pre-trip, Wendy and I weren't sure Steve was really coming along and she prepared to satisfy primarily our musical and junk food needs. When Steve finally decided to come, Wendy and I couldn't decide if it was because he was concerned
- for her driving
- for her going off unsupervised with me: we've raised a little bit of hell in the past,
- or that he really just wanted the adventure
Baton Rouge is about an hour and a half away from our homes around New Orleans and the ride was nice. We jockeyed a bit for musical tastes and the volume of said, but there were no serious problems. The weather was hot but pretty and the ride comfortable. We were able to secure directions and got to the general area of our destination via google, but we could not find anything that resembled a dime museum. None of us could pronounce the museums name either....this created a slight sense of skepticism mixed with potential dread in my mind...I suspect Steve was feeling it too. Wendy just knew it was going to be okay.
It is ridiculously apparent to me now as I write this that the name "Insomkneeacks" of the name Insomkneeacks Pexcho's American Dime Museum is a bastardization of INSOMNIACS which is kinda cool. I didn't pick up on that initially. It also makes sense that Wendy, an Ambien devotee, would pick a place named this to visit on our first outing.
The area was a bit run down and you could tell it had been in it's prime in the sixties and seventies but was now on the fringes. We noticed a rough looking doughnut shop and a run down cinema with a flashily painted vintage VW bug sitting out side the entrance, but no real sign of the museum. As is always the case in moments of sudden stress, it became time to acquiesce to Wendy's passion for using every restroom in the Gulf South as she often explains, "time for poopies! " it comes out so quickly, the expression that is, in a high pitched fast paced voice that I often can't discern. Steve recognizes the call and we look for a restroom.
As a side line for those of you reading, I want to explain that I've known these two people for most of the time I've lived in New Orleans and I love them. To the right and down is a picture of them together contemplating a two-headed duck. I am always amused, and I'll talk
about his alot as I write more, that they have a unique schtick they perform unintentionally around me, whereby, Wendy will say something really strange, fast or in code and Steve translates the message for me very patiently... like I'm deaf. He always starts with, "What Wendy's saying is..." and if you ever have the pleasure of Steve's company you'll experience, under these circumstances, his very methodical speaking style. It's so adorable and a product of the years they've shared. It's also damned helpful. No ego! Just good communication. Wendy's bathroom vernacula, and specifically the expression"poopee" is one of those expressions that Steve had to explain many times to me before I was able to decipher on my own. Interesting fact relating to this scatological expose, I've learned that Wendy has converted an entire Firehouse of men into using the more polite "poopee" in her presence during her shifts. I can't believe I"m actually writing this and I AM laughing out loud in sharing it with you. Come to think of it, I wonder why we don't have pictures of Wendy at the woman's room here?Back to the museum... It seemed we were destined for failure until somebody (Steve maybe) suggested we call the museum. A perky female voice answered assuring us that they were open and, to our surprise, that they were in the building with the flashy VW Bug outside of it. Cautiously excited, we found the site.
The bug was bright and fun, but it sat in front of an enormous late sixties/early seventies mutliplex cinema that was obviously decaying and long out of use. To the right of this building was a strip mall type building with some paintings, graffiti and assorted "thrift" cluttering the outside and no humans in sight. The entire block was devoid of human activity. We looked around for a clearly marked entrance which wasn't there and didn't really know what to do. We walked to the side of the building where there was a cryptic warning painted on the alley wall instructing invaders to leave. I was getting a baaaad feeling until Wendy found the door and we were greeted by a brood of small boys all sporting Mohawks, followed by a Betty Paige styled woman with a child in her arms. She was quite pleasant and arranged for payment and introduced us to her husband, the proprietor, who invited us to sit for an introduction. It took a moment for everyone to clear out, albeit politely, and for us to pay. There seemed to be children coming out of every nook and cranny if I may be so cliche.
I was quite skeptical of this dubious looking "museum." It was housed in what seemed like an abandoned bar with clutter everywhere and a most eclectic mix of curiosities, new and old, in every corner. Being a man with a sizable....probosces and the olfactory capacity of a ravenously hungry Alaskan bear, I was not feeling great about the hygienic level of the surroundings and was certain shortly herein I would be suffering from inflamed sinuses. Surprisingly, that didn't happen and sitting in the parlor for the introduction I felt quite comfortable. Sometimes this old Mainer has to turn off his "Can't get theyah from heyah" mentality when voluntarily on an adventure and let things take their course. You can imagine how disastrous a ridiculous philosophy like this has been for me in my past....but as Wendy says, "What the hay!" I sensed that Steve was a bit skeptical on this too. I was glad to have skeptical companionship but we love and trust Wendy and are open to ...whatever.
So, I forget the mans name, no doubt Steve and Wendy will fill in those details as they add to this blog, but he gave us a very interesting history of the American dime museum. It was insightful and, despite his alarming appearance, primarily the big bone "thingy" in his nose and the enormous earrings embedded in his earlobe, he was quite charming. Doesn't that sound ridiculous? But he was very charming and despite all the negatives I have written prior, we really enjoyed the place.
I think the thing that really set a positive tone for me was that our proprietor started the proceedings with a small jar of Le Petomane's farts in a historical display on the wall. For those of you who don't know Le Petomane here's a wikipedia link on him.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_P%C3%A9tomane
I once spent a rollicking night with my pal Michael Merino laughing and rolling on the floor of Patrick Toebe's house as his wife Carol regaled us with gut-wrenchingly hysterical reenactments of Le Petomane's work. I was sore from laughter the next day.
The proprietor asked us not to touch and allowed us to roam the small and densely packed exhibits on our own. The entire museum was packed into a curtain cordoned space of about 600 square feet. The problem was that although labeled and displayed well, it was kind of
crowded. Two headed birds and canes made of Rhino foreskins were set aside artifacts from famous whorehouses and innumerable curiosities. To the right is a two headed mummy, just sitting there for us to enjoy. I really wanted to touch a lot of it. Wendy and I later remarked that on our own the whole experience could be taken in in about a half an hour and quite frankly was so chaotic that you felt sort "eh" about the trip. That feeling, and the discovery that the Insomkneeack is also a tattoo parlor, unified the whole sloppy mess and made me, up tight wasp that I am, ready to leave. I think the presence of a tatoo parlor may have inspired Wendy to get her first "tat," an action, no matter who has it done, which always puzzles and confounds me. I remarked on all of this with a sneer of course, but compel you, reader, to hang in there like I did at the Insomkneeack Pexcho's American Dime Museum, because service is KING and our proprietor, upon our re immersion into the light of the lobby, now took us on a personal guided tour of all the museums exhibits. It made the whole day. Despite my priggish comments before, I was totally won over by this guy and fascinated by his stories. I was a little alarmed when he talked about the how he and his kids were zapping each other with this 19th century electric neon medical kit. But then he killed me with some self deprecating humor about how he forgot about his piercings and let his kid run the neon thing over him and, of course, got a huge zap when it passed the metal. Sort of kinky, sort of S&M...sort of I hope nobody from Child Services reads this...but the kids were fine, really!
We were pumped! The picture to the left is a Sea Devil. Scared to "poopie" out of me and I couldn't get the image out of my head. Wendy annoyed some strangely marked flesh eating turtle by tapping at it in it's aquarium and I revisited several of the curiosities with new excitement after our personalized tour. Steve chatted up our proprietor, getting his "story" and, as Steve so often does, connecting with him in a personal warm way. We learned a lot about him, his military service and how the business was doing and really left with an appreciation of what he was doing. Just a nice guy.So, we said goodbye to the proprietor and the human handed crawfish and headed out for some food. Nothing planned here, but we ended up having Mexican food at a little strip mall not far from the museum. English was not the first language in this place, but from our perspective, it's a sure sign the food will be authentic and tasty!
It was a nice and mellow ride home. We stopped in the Bywater to look at some paintings Wendy and her son Josh had posted at a local bar/gallery and had a quick drink. I'll post some really badly shot pictures of Wendy's new cube obsessed paintings below.
We were all amazed and grateful for Wendy's efforts. Steve seem to have an unexpectedly good time and I think he's hooked on the concept. We discussed what sights Wendy would steer us to see next time on the ride back, but resigned the research to Wendy. She happily accepted the responsibility. We sure passed a good time as they say here in Louisiana.
It was a nice and mellow ride home. We stopped in the Bywater to look at some paintings Wendy and her son Josh had posted at a local bar/gallery and had a quick drink. I'll post some really badly shot pictures of Wendy's new cube obsessed paintings below.
We were all amazed and grateful for Wendy's efforts. Steve seem to have an unexpectedly good time and I think he's hooked on the concept. We discussed what sights Wendy would steer us to see next time on the ride back, but resigned the research to Wendy. She happily accepted the responsibility. We sure passed a good time as they say here in Louisiana.
Until our next road trip!
Kris
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