I lost my job, well I didn’t lose it, I know where it is, there’s just some other guy doing it now. – Bobcat Goldthwait
Working in the French Quarter service industry can create tight friendships among co-workers. We count on each other and cover for each other. Years in the trenches together sometimes end when one co-worker moves on. We promise to stay in contact, but sadly we usually drift apart. A former work buddy sticking their head in for a little “hello” can bring smiles to everyone. A quick update, a little bit of gossip and a reminder of why we liked each other.
Those visits should happen more, only IF the former employee leaves on good terms. They give in plenty of notice and work just as hard on their last two weeks as they did on their first two weeks. If the employer shakes their hand and says, “You’re always welcome to come back to your old job at any time.” Ideal departure.
If an employee quits a job with no notice or with high drama, perhaps they shouldn’t comeback, even as a customer. Show a little self-awareness. If you are 86’d as an employee, you probably shouldn’t consider yourself a welcomed patron either — especially if you were fired. I’d be damned if my dumb ass got fired from a business, I’d then go back to spend money earned from my current position. I have seen it happen for years.
“Oh, I just came back to visit with my good friend who works here!” If you really are good friends, they can come visit you at your new job or you can arrange to get together somewhere else. If you were actually fired from your job, then there is a very good likelihood that the rest of your co-workers weren’t as fond of you as you think.
Think about all of those who you have worked with over the years that have been out and out fired, did you really miss them? Most of the time it’s those remaining workers who think “About time, we have been carrying their ass and putting up with their bullshit too long.” If your boss thinks that you are a lousy employee, probably everyone else thinks it too. If your “good friend” still works there, then odds are they were the 2nd worst worker.
“Just getting caught up” quickly evolves into workplace gossip, talking shit about the other workers, talking more shit about the business and the boss. Malicious words to portray yourself as a victim of an “unjust firing” and to lay seeds of discontent among the remaining staff. Perhaps that one person is happy to see you (or is only pretending to be) while the rest quietly whisper: “How can they show their face in here?”
It’s really cringe and has a “stalky” feel to it, like always showing up where your ex is.
We as Quarter Rats are, by nature, gamblers. Perhaps not in the traditional gaming kind of way, just in our daily lives. We gamble on career changes, roommates, dope deals and what streets we choose to walk down at night. Why should this publication be any different? Working on this website and printing this newspaper is like having a slot machine in our living rooms. “OK, one more spin…” We all have something for a vice.
Otis told us: “When the odds seem really against you just double down.” So, we started a second newspaper based on the same premise as “The Quarter Rat.” A service industry-oriented publication that advertises the small businesses catering to the locals. But any new city would have to have crazy tourist stories, weird residents, intrigue and be as unique in character and history as the French Quarter in New Orleans for the idea to work. What city could possibly produce the same wild content as us? Las Vegas, baby.
A year ago, we launched The Strip Rat in Las Vegas, Nevada. I thought of this idea over a decade ago when I was an artist for the first incarnation of the rodent-themed rag. I’m just getting around to it now. I’m old, I’m running out of time to put off dreams any longer. Besides, the gamble looked risky and stupid, which I seem to have a fondness for.
We have published four issues over the past year with a lot of free ads for the places to where we distribute them as a thank you and an example of what we can do. We love that city from a publishing standpoint, so many damn good stories, and good people. So far, the city has dealt us with a few good hands.
During my first visit out there, I stayed on Fremont Street and spent days exploring the downtown area and it’s the French Quarter of Las Vegas. Same vibes: wild but homey, artsy and historic, crazy or placid. It might be a good bet.
The catalyst for this risky venture was the passing of my older brother Kevin in December 2022. Kevin was a retired Air Force veteran and had been stationed at Nellis Air Force base back in the mid 1970s, and vowed he would retire there. He did and spent his last 30 years in Las Vegas. Being nine years older my senior, family history and dynamics made a distance but we tried hard to maintain a brotherly bond. Monthly phone calls were often redundant of “same old-same old” accounts of what we were doing.
Kevin rode his bike at least 10 miles a day, hit the gym and then hit the bars, often many. I found out from his friends that his drinking rose to an epic level that surprised even seasoned bartenders. I also discovered he did a bit of loan sharking on the side, which impressed this kid brother. The only exception to his chosen grind was an on-again-off-again relationship with a criminally insane cocktail waitress from Venezuela. Family genetics granted Kevin good looks, athleticism and financial smarts. I only got the “talent” gene.
As a teen he would spend his summers working 80 hours a week on the New Jersey boardwalk. He ran the games, “10 cent a spin” to win a stuffed Scooby-Doo. Kevin was the kid you would toss a quarter to so you could squirt water into a clown’s mouth to pop a balloon. I think it explains why he would eventually migrate to Las Vegas to live his life. I would end up on Bourbon Street.
Every few months my older brother would ask: “So, are you still doing art for that newspaper or magazine thing about rats?” “Yea we are. It’s doing good, we just published another couple of issues. Do you want me to send you some?” “Naw, that’s OK, you’re broke, don’t be spending your money on postage.” “You know, I think this kind of a paper would really do well out there in Vegas…” “Don’t bother. We have dozens of those tourist rags that no one reads. You would be wasting your time and money.”
After his passing I went through the same grieving process we all experience. Countless guilt trips of “I wish I had called him more or went out to visit him.” Except for my son, he was all the family I had left. Kevin left me a great inheritance, his friends. One was a Marine veteran named Chick. The first time I ever spoke with Chick was when he called me to inform me of my half-brother’s death. Over the upcoming months he was integral to wading through the matters following our loss.
After many phone calls and dilemmas our friendship grew, and Chick would ask about my life in the French Quarter and what I did with my free time. I sheepishly tried to describe the off-beat publication that has been my sole passion for the past 13 years or so. It really is difficult to accurately convey what the Quarter Rat is like. Nothing exists to compare it to. Chick seemed intrigued by the concept.
“Chick, if you like I could send you some copies.” “Could you? I would love to see what you work on.” Upon receiving the bundle of my past work he called me. “These are great! Did you really do all the artwork? Fantastic.” “You know, I always toyed with the idea of starting a similar publication out there in Las Vegas. I think maybe…” “Oh you should! These are amazing. There’s nothing like this out here, I think it would go over big with the local bar crowds.” “Do you know any local writers?” “Funny you should ask. Your brother was good friends with this guy Tony Medina. He does a little writing and was a bartender years ago to Tony Spilotro, Frank Cullotta and all of them mob guys. Man, he has some stories to tell. I nicknamed him “Bartender to the mob.”
I took all my raw emotions from grief, loss and anger and funneled it into the creation of The Strip Rat. I’ll admit there was an element of “Kevin, you said I couldn’t do this, I’ll show you that I can.” Anyone with an older sibling will understand. I dedicated the paper to his memory and with getting to know his friends I felt closer to my late brother.
In the following months I bounced the idea around with my good friend and fellow QR cohort editor Dave. Not that he doesn’t have enough on his plate. A full-time professional reporter who has a wife, a house, a dog, The Quarter Rat website and paper, and all that involves his time. Dave also could envision the potential in the much larger market.
Since he was also a fan of the film, Casino, I would satirically send him clips as our business plan. It reflected our personality as well. One of us was an obsessive micro-manager to every detail of his chosen project, the other could effortlessly stab someone in the neck with a pen as a writer, figuratively of course. We made a great pair.
A little over a year after Kevin’s death, we were ready to go to print on issue #1. The same style and look as our Quarter Rat newspaper. Quirky news stories, satire and juvenile humor packaged in a sensational supermarket tabloid-looking publication. We were starting off cold, complete unknowns printing a new paper. In issue #1 we introduced ourselves with a brief history of The Quarter Rat publications and even offered a “Travel and Leisure Section” enticing Vegas locals to visit The French Quarter with a list to our best dive bars.
A good tabloid will often have celebrities splashed across the front page. However, celebrity worship goes against our ethos. Featuring a headline with a day actor who you may have seen but never knew his name? Yea, that’s more our style. Not being able to find him for an interview? Sounds like a non-story, so we made it the headline. It became a quest, posting missing ads and a reward for finding him in subsequent issues.
Far be it for me to ever offer business advice, but as far as advice on creative goals? Don’t wait until you “get all of your ducks in a row.” If you wait for that it will never happen. Get a couple lined up and start marching forward, the rest will fall in line as you go. Chick helped with the early distribution but he’s kind of up there in age. I sent my son Adam and his girlfriend out there to distribute the first two issues. To make it fun, I set it up in the style of the Grand Theft Auto video game, I knew then my kid would pass the mission.
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The Strip Rat was well received by the service industry people who got it in their hands. A publication for them not the tourists. Not a social media site or YouTube channel about life in Las Vegas, but a tangible printed publication. Having to put down your phone to view something is almost a novelty in today’s world, people seem to be enjoying it.
Our team was joined by a young writer in Las Vegas, Nereyda. With her education in journalism and marketing she got it and saw the potential for alternative counter establishment fun. She also offers a different perspective from us rickety old men.
We got dealt an ace for our fourth and one-year anniversary issue. We were contacted by a reader and tipster who knew where to find the elusive Brian LeBaron. She knew him well and had interviewed him years before. We found not only Brian but a new local writer to welcome aboard. By sheer luck our first four issues followed a story arc of sorts. Concluding with our “Scorsese’s Casino 30th Anniversary” issue featuring LeBaron on the cover for the second time.
We would like to thank Derek for sponsoring us in this last issue. A local business owner, and art enthusiast who appreciated the idea of a local paper to focus on the arts district. We think of supporters not as advertisers but investors.
For the next year of publication, I think we will be having fun with “The Rat Pack.”
A heartfelt sense of gratitude to those who helped me fulfill my dream of starting this newspaper. Thank you to Dave, Chick, Tony, Adam, Rhiannon, Nereyda, Heidi, Brian and Derek. To Kevin, I miss you my brother and wish you were here to see it.
Phenomenal seems to be the most frequently used word by French Quarter businesses to describe the past week of the “Swifties” invasion. Swiftie denotes a dedicated fan of singer-songwriter Taylor Swift, whose three nights of concerts at the Caesars Superdome flooded the French Quarter with her most diehard followers this past weekend. The Swifties quickly gained fans of their own among the local business community, not only for their patronage, but for just being courteous and downright nice people. If a business owner wasn’t a Taylor Swift fan prior to this week, they certainly are now.
Jaded service industry workers in the French Quarter are no stranger to large homogeneous groups and typically expect an aggravating work shift dealing with rude, entitled customers. Not so with Swift fans. In fact, the complete opposite seems to be true. I received nothing but compliments for the sequined customers, who were generally described as “very kind and spending lots of money.”
Cary Thompson, general manager at 13 on Frenchman Street had nothing but praise for the crowds of Swift fans this week. “They weren’t just trying to be kind; they were very genuine and engaged,” he said. “They all seemed very based, happy to be here and really vibing on each other’s fandom and positivity.”
Enormous peaceful crowds packed Bourbon Street for blocks singing Swift songs, dancing, and just being cool and loving. This is not exactly what we are used to seeing on Bourbon Street. There is clear evidence that this group of people seemed to have left the Quarter cleaner and in better shape than they found it.
One of Bourbon’s most hardened and renowned night club managers, Eddie O’Dwyer at The Frat House on Bourbon Street had this to say about this Swifty weekend: “If I could open a strictly Taylor Swift bar, I would. Great crowds and numbers since Thursday. No problems, no headaches, everyone nice and polite. I was like wtf?! I’ll take this 7 days a week, 365. I hope they come back next year!” Eddie added his security staff was extremely bored from all of the politeness.
One shop, Gimme at 713 Toulouse St., was elbow-to-elbow with Swifties for days. The shop, which features accessories best described as pink and glittery, has never seen crowds of customers like this since they opened about three years ago, or at any point in their entire retail experience in the French Quarter. Owner Jeff McCoy and his wife Nikki not only praised the quantity of customers, but the quality of customers.
The bright pink Gimme shop features fun quirky accessories and glittery makeup, a huge draw for Swifties. Several people asked what kind of a shop it is the rest of the year thinking it was Taylor Swift pop-up store here only during the concert. “Nope, this is us year-round,” Jeff McCoy responded.
Excessively polite and courteous patrons filed in and out of the shop as soon as the doors opened. McCoy recalled one incident. “We were just locking up and closing for the night when a couple of customers from earlier in the day started to tap on the window for our attention,” he said.
Somehow the customers had inadvertently received a pair of earrings in their purchase bag that they had not paid for. Since they were leaving the next day, they made a special trip back to the small shop that night to either return or pay for the merchandise.
Overwhelmed with such honesty, Nikki and Jeff said they refused payment for the earnings. “Please just keep them,” the McCoys told the group.
According to Jeff, that incident was the best example of the type of crowds they were serving this weekend.
Turtle Bay on Decatur Street had informally renamed the upstairs as “Taylor Bay” for the concert weekend and decorated wall-to-wall in bright, glittery tassels, just like the kind of dress Taylor Swift wears on stage (in fact, when I Googled the spelling of tassel, the search bar auto-populated with “tassel dress Taylor Swift”). Guests loved it and here’s what owner Steve Smith had to say on this weekend:
“I’ll start by saying, going into the weekend I wasn’t a Taylor Swift fan. Not a hater, just indifferent. As a 54-year-old guy, I wouldn’t have been able to name one Taylor Swift song. I’m sure I’ve heard some just as a member of society, but I couldn’t have told you what songs hers were when I heard them. My wife and I happened to be in Nashville last year when the Taylor Swift tour was in town. We saw how many people it brought there. So, when we found out the tour was stopping in New Orleans we knew it would be a busy weekend and wanted to take advantage.
“We decided to turn the upstairs room at our bar/grill into a Taylor Swift-themed room. We knew with three sold out shows in the Dome, New Orleans was going to get plenty of visitors this weekend. What we didn’t know, was the town was about to be consumed and completely taken over by a seemingly never-ending swarm of ‘Swifties.’
“Every bar, restaurant and shop was filled for three days giving businesses a much-needed shot in the arm after another long summer. But this group brought with it more than monetary gains to the city. They didn’t just spend money around town, they shared their fun loving, friendly, carefree attitude. Every one of the Swifties, young and old, came with excitement and a smile ear to ear. Their attitude was truly contagious. You could feel the excitement and buzz around the city from the tourist to the locals.
“I’ve been in this business for over 30 years in New Orleans and I can’t really remember an event like this not called Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest or French Quarter Fest that brought the same energy. That includes the many Super Bowls, college football championships, concerts, etc. I’ve witnessed. In a town that sees plenty of ups and downs from a very contentious political season, crime, poor infrastructure, and the rest. The Swiftie invasion and shared positive vibes was more than welcome. It was one of the best weekends for the city I can remember, certainly since covid. I know we have the Super Bowl coming in a few months and it will be great. But I would gladly take another Swiftie invasion weekend any day!!“
Thank you, Taylor Swift and your fans, not just for giving New Orleans the huge financial boost we knew we needed, but more importantly the emotional lift we didn’t know we needed.“ -Steve Smith, Turtle Bay.
Regardless of what someone’s opinion is of Taylor Swift’s music or politics, one cannot deny that she boosts the economy of any city she performs in. Not every event or festival here can say that. There have been large groups of fans for events that were way more trouble than they were worth and their return visits are always dreaded.
Summers are always slow and with the current economy, this visit has been a blessing. Jeff McCoy stated: “When she schedules her next tour, I’ll personally go to a council meeting and encourage the city to invite her back.”
Hell, when she comes back, I’ll spend the money and go to a show myself.
The 700 block of Toulouse Street in the French Quarter will be closed for a commercial shoot on Thursday, March 28, 2024, between the hours of 7AM and 7PM. There will be no parking for the public to allow for those ugly white trucks to idle as their Teamster drivers watch porn on their phones for 12 hours.
Expect the sidewalk to be crowded with pretentious hipsters sniffing their own farts as they act as if they are somehow important in the grand scheme of things. Be advised of tripping hazards such as cables, sandbags and snotty craft service people.
If set security should approach and inquire about your business on Toulouse Street, tell them to go fuck themselves.
A spectacular sight was seen in the French Quarter on Saturday, when a world famous 11 feet high animatronic puppet graced our city. Little Amal is a project by Handspring Puppet Company from South Africa. Little Amal has been on a global tour known as The Walk to bring awareness to refugees fleeing from the continuing conflict in Syria. Amal portrays a 10-year-old girl fleeing a war-torn nation searching for her mother by walking the earth.
No exaggeration, some of her appearances since this project started in July of 2021 have included nearly 100 cities in 14 countries, covering more than 6,000 miles. New Orleans has the privilege of being her latest stop. On Saturday, the puppet’s stroll started on the Riverwalk, then proceeded to Jackson Square and onto the finish at Congo Square.
The scale and mechanics of the animatronic puppet are amazing to behold in person while from a distance the creation does take on a very human like presence. Praise to the creators and puppeteers, especially the one inside walking on stilts navigating our infrastructure. Amal’s magnetic VHS tape hair blowing in the wind from the river just added to the life-like quality.
Amal’s arrival was heralded by a lone trumpet player at the Moonwalk by the river. There was some sort of eery industrial fire to the southeast of us miles away casting a dark line of smoke on the horizon in the otherwise clear blue sky. Almost a war like backdrop to her story.
Waiting were performers from the local puppet company, The Mudlark Puppeteers. There was a brief performance about Native Americans, the river and colonialism. To be honest, I’m not really sure what the premise was. It did not strike me as particularly well-conceived, rehearsed or directed.
From there, it turned into a second line of sorts with the brass band TuBad. Prior to the start I was standing downwind from them smoking and caught a pretty good secondhand buzz, so of course they sounded good to me.
The puppet was, of course, the star attraction and at times dancing to the music of the band. I kept waiting for her to twerk for that true NOLA flair. Amal managed to dwarf anything she stood near in Jackson Square. The statue, the fountain and trees were all reduced in her presence.
I was impressed how the performers managed to bring life to the character by interacting with its surroundings. Leaning forward to look at a sign, examining a tree or fountain. As the crew walked down Decatur Street in front of the Square, the puppeteers thought that stopping to pet a carriage mule might be a nice gesture. As it approached the mule and put out a hand the size of a garbage can lid, the buggy driver screamed “GET THE FUCK AWAY!” as he shook his buggy whip at the puppet. The mules are usually pretty chill, but to be honest at first glance this puppet is a little freaky.
The procession stopped for another skit with The Mudlark Puppeteers in front of the Cabildo. This performance was a little more obvious than the first. It was about the slave trade in America. I’m not sure of the connection to the plight of refugees, perhaps it was just a regional culture reference.
Some puppet performers wore masks, while others had matching colonial wardrobe and most just wore street clothes. The masks were obviously those of white European-descended slave traders. All lifeless looking and identical except for hair colors of blond and red. The puppets brought out were characters of African slaves. The slaves looked like they were designed based on 1920’s racist advertisements for laundry detergent. It was just uncomfortable and awkward to watch the performance. –not due to the content but the quality.
On St. Peters Street, diners on the balcony of Tableau were treated to a nearly face-to-face encounter with the creation. With all that is happening in our frighteningly changing world today and the politicization of every aspect of it, there was not as much as I anticipated. I half expected to see pro-Palestinian supporters make some sort of an appearance. There had been a rally earlier in the week at Duncan Park.
Perhaps the organizers preempted any involvement by those looking to exploit the moment. The entire Israel and Palestine conflict is a hot button topic that only widens division. Thankfully none of that came into play yesterday, although it wasn’t not entirely unrelated.
There was however a second line reveler group sporting the colors red, green and yellow for Africa and Black Lives Matter regalia. A bit surprising since most corporations, NGO’s and nonprofits have distanced themselves from BLM following last year’s scandals. The organization’s leadership has been accused of embezzling tens of million from donors for personal use. The British production company responsible for this global odyssey probably had little or no say in who would be greeting them.
For the record, Syria is located in Western Asia, not Africa.
From an artistic standpoint, I would’ve sought out a Mardi Gras Indian krewe to accompany our city’s guest. The colorful and flamboyant Indian costumes would have nicely contrasted the muted earth tones of Amal’s appearance. Being also large in scale it would have made for great visuals with something iconic to our city’s culture.
I spent the rest of my day pondering the themes of refugees and colonialism presented by this performance. One could argue that the original European settlers in the Americas were in fact refugees fleeing religious persecution in their homelands. Apparently, the Native Americans had very liberal immigration policies for their times. An open border with assistance of food and shelter for the migrants. In hindsight the indigenous people might now think that was not a great idea.
Another parallel that came to mind was that the Jews were refugees in the 1930s fleeing from religious persecution. Now they are accused of being the colonizers, same as the Pilgrims. What is the tipping point from where refugees and migrants become the colonizers? I think there are many native Europeans asking that question today.
A discussion for greater intellects than mine.
Reporting from the East Bank of the Gonad Heights.
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