New Orleans' Badda Bing Club

 

I went to the Badda Bing club.  It's not for you.

Kevin invited me to meet him there.  I had been there once before, years ago, and it wasn't for me, then.  Kevin told me the club was under new management.  He told me they have great hot wings.

I like Kevin so I wasn't going to argue.  I figured why not?  I don't normally like hot wings but, being the kind of person who has to make recommendations to people looking for particular things, I figured I should sample the wings and everything else the newly managed Badda Bing Club offers.

Boy, was I satisfied.  

It's not for you.

Kevin was there when I arrived.  He was sitting at the bar, already pie-eyed.  He had already had a snootful, if you know what I mean.  No worries.  I was sober.  I know enough not to trust him when he's in his cups.

"I was just talking to the most beautiful woman.  Where'd she go?"  Kevin said.

The bartender told him, "She left."  

"Damn my luck," Kevin said to the bartender.  "Still, it's nice to see you here," he said to me.  "I didn't think you'd show up."

I was thinking to myself that the feeling was mutual but then, out nowhere, who to my wondering eyes should appear but KETTLE-HEAD!  Alright!

Kettle-Head came over and we hugged.  Man, it was good to see him again.  He was wearing a mask over the crawfish pot he wears over his head.  He's so considerate.

I introduced Kevin to Kettle-Head and vice versa and I said we were going to order some wings, would Kettle-Head like to join us?

"No," he said.  It is usually hard enough to understand him when he talks out of the mouth slit he cut in the crawfish pot he wears on top of his head.  Wearing a mask made it even harder, especially over the music.

"I've been in the kitchen," he said.  "You don't want the wings here.  You don't want anything.  I've been in the dancers' dressing room----you don't want anything."  

If I didn't mention it before, the Badda Bing Club is a strip club, as if the name didn't already give that away.  Most people I know say they go for the food.

Kevin said, "I love it here.  It's my second home.  I eat here all the time."

Kettle-Head said, "I know.  I see you here all the time."

I said to Kettle-Head, "If you don't want anything here, why are you here as much as Kevin, who doesn't know any better?"

Kettle-Head turned the eyeholes of his crawfish pot straight at me.  "Public service," he said.  He was dead serious about it, too.

I turned to Kevin. "I don't think I can stay here," I said.  

"C'mon," Kevin said.  "The wings are great here, better than McHardy's." 

Strong words.

The bartender overheard our conversation.  "I'll tell you what, buddy," he said to me, "If you stay, everything is on the house for you and for your friends here."

I thought about it.  "Thanks, Mac," I said to him, "I'll take you up on that offer."  So, I stayed.  So did Kevin.

Kettle-Head excused himself.  He said there was the opening of a puppet show on Castiliogne Street that he was promised to be at.  He loves puppet shows.  Who doesn't?  Kettle-Head is a real connoisseur, though.  His reviews have been published in Gambit.  He's their unofficial puppet show expert.  He's really into the scene.

I'm not going to say the wings at the Badda Bing Club were better than McHardy's but I will say they were pretty good as far as hot wings go.  I didn't look inside the kitchen.

I didn't go into the dancers' dressing room, either.  While I was there, I didn't pay too much attention to the show, but, from the little I did see, I can say that the dancers are very talented at the Badda Bing Club.

Total cost:  Priceless.  Another typical New Orleans adventure completed and another good New Orleans memory was made.

---Have a great New Orleans day today, wherever you are.