Lions and Leone

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The Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone

Now we’re not placing ourselves on any sort of arc of greatness, but did you know that William Faulkner, Truman Capote, and Eudora Welty all spent time at the Hotel Monteleone? “Generations of literary lions," so says the plaque. No shit. Makes total sense. Southern Gothic just oozes from the place.

Welty even has a suite named after her. We did not stay in that suite, but perhaps after the powers that be see how earnest we are in our endeavors, they will recognize the need to match us to our proper surroundings. Spmmmrph. A stay in the humblest of corners at the Monteleone inspires the tumble of verbs and color, for true. But you know how we writer-types are, we don’t just sit down and start tapping. We soak in a place. We eat, drink, snooze, fuck, and swallow everything an environment offers. And we did (at least the first three.)

We won’t lie. We think Eudora really got down in this place.

It makes a certain kind of sense that Eudy (we are on nickname basis), and for that matter, writers in general find this joint suitable for their craft. Looking out our windows onto the tight and crescent streets of New Orleans, the micro and macro machinations of daily life explode. This person crosses the street at an odd angle; that one sticks with the corners – ultimately miniscule differences. Subtle tactical maneuvers (paging Raymond Williams!). It’s a keen vantage point for writers, people-watchers, and perverts. Since we’re all three, we feel quite qualified to tell you, this place is a gas to get your creative class off of its ass. In fact, we have a great idea – a modest proposition, if you will: Given the Monteleone’s storied history of hosting writers, we think they should start a permanent writer’s residency. Let’s say, for example, that they call it the Dandy Unicorn Permanent Writer’s Residency (or DUhPWR – pronounced “Duh Power” – for short), so named for your first applicants and permanent residency recipients (somebody has to mentor the future classes, and their asses). We’re jussayin’.

And speaking of writing and writers: The Hotel Monteleone also facilitates another essential element to the writers’ craft: Drinking. The Monteleone’s own unique culture of drinking is carved out in the form of the world-renowned and recently renovated Carousel Bar. Fret not, fans of Carousel past! She’s merely slathered her top in pewter and opened up the back wall so “riders” on the carousel may peer into the open part of the bar, which has been expanded toward the Iberville side of the space. Yes, riders. For you uninitiated, the dang thing turns, just like that restaurant in Dallas, not fast enough to make you puke, but fast enough to make you think your drink is working overtime.

Monteleone is great for reading too – Andy spent a good amount of time re-reading John Waters’ book Role Models in his jacuzzi tub. (What else happened in that tub is a yarn best unspooled over a couple of strong drinks.) Kate basically stay the hell out of the way and just read auras and coupon books.

Amen!(ities)