The bartenders and owners of New Orleans keep especially vampiric hours, a fact that, according to Cole Newton, owner and faithful tender of the Twelve Mile Limit in Mid-City, often forces them to prowl the dimming city for the sort of pizza only drunks and Chuck-E-Cheez fans can truly love. Bourbon Street, with Big Easy Daiquiris at the vanguard, offers no shortage of such cheesy fare, the allure of which tickles the adolescent, sleepover brainstem in all of us, especially the hungry bartender just off a busy shift:
Leaving work at three in the morning (often a hazard of the job for bartenders) presents certain obstacles to feeding oneself like an adult. As a result, I sometimes find myself on Bourbon Street for an unusually large slice of cheese pizza and a 72 oz. Miller Lite. The specific origin of the slice is irrelevant; the quality varies only slightly from one shop to the next. The pizza is usually stale and the beer is flat after the first 20 oz., but bad pizza is almost always better than no pizza, especially early in the morning. There is also an unusual effect to holding a beer of that size and a huge slice of pizza?a sensation similar to that of a hobbit drinking for the first time in the company of men. This feeling alone is worth braving an environment that most resident New Orleanians avoid like the plague.