ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A French Quarter architect has simply shrugged his shoulders and exercised his birthright to command a community serf to bring him some takeaway in exchange for a few dollars.
With his little tummy rumbling, 49-year-old Martin Hester of Rue de Orto-Fellaitio looked out his window and down onto the street. It was still raining and there was nothing left in the fridge except for last night’s leftover takeaway butter chicken.
He said he didn’t feel like eating what he had for dinner the night before for lunch.
“I mean, who has Indian food for lunch?” he told The Advocate today.
“And I was absolutely starving. I had nothing in the pantry and nothing in the fridge. Well, I had a few things. Olive oil, garlic, sardines, parsley, pasta, tuna, cheese. Nothing,”
“Plus, I don’t want to go out in this rain and get sick. My furbaby also gets scared when he’s left alone in the rain.”
When asked if he cared about the well-being of the people who deliver his food, he asked us who we meant.
“You mean the people on the bike? I never see them. I tell them I’m sick so they just leave it on my doorstep and fuck off! [laughs] I don’t know what you mean? It’s capitalism. The Cold War is over, bro. We won. We don’t have to queue for bread, we don’t have to ride bikes around like peasants. We have cars and central heating. Air conditioning and electric cars,” he said.
“Yeah sure, some kid in the Congo has to hose rare earth minerals out of a hillside for a warlord to sell to battery manufacturers but I don’t think about it,”
“Anyway brother, my $32 Pad Kee Mao is almost here and I hope it’s cold so I can get a refund then heat it up in the microwave.”
More to come.
