How to celebrate your 97th birthday in high style

I've been hanging out at the National World War II Museum on the day shift lately. The city is crawling with pedicabs these days, but nobody else works the museum. I bragged about my new sweet spot to my boss so much that he rode a bike over there last week just to see for himself, and he picked up a ride within 10 seconds. (If I pull up in front of the museum tomorrow and find a line of pedicabs waiting there, at least I'll know that my colleagues/competitors are reading my blog.)

The people I pick up there tend more toward the geriatric -- as opposed to the Bourbon St. set for instance, which, as everyone knows, is mostly drunken college kids. Actually, that distinction is easily overstated. Whenever a 60- or 70-year-old couple boards the bike at the museum they're as likely as not to ask me to take them to Bourbon St.

Speaking of geriatric, I took a 97-year-old lady for a birthday ride last Friday. I was about to do a drop off on Bourbon off when a waiter from Galatoire's flagged me down to say that they needed two bikes. This was good news since a pickup at Galatoires is pretty much bound to produce a good tip. I deposited my passenger at his destination a block up the road and circled back around to the restaurant as I radioed for a colleague to join me.

There were five ladies in all -- three sisters, around my age; their mother; and the birthday girl and guest of honor, their grandmother. The sisters called her Maw-maw, South-Louisiana style with the accent on the second syllable. (I called my maternal grandmother, who was from the northern part of the state, MAW-maw; here on the south side of Alexandria, maw-MAW is the preferred pronunciation. I assume it comes from the French influence.)

The sisters came out of the restaurant first. They were attractive and well-dressed (You don't get seated at Galatoire's if you're not well-dressed!), and they spoke with heavy Yat accents, which marked them immediately as New Orleans natives. We chatted for a few minutes while we waited on the two older ladies to finish up their meal.

I learned from the sisters that taking Maw-maw to lunch at Galatoire's for her birthday had been a treasured family tradition of theirs for many years. They were giddy with the excitement of the event. Every year the lunch is followed by some specially-planned surprise activity, and this year the pedicab ride was to be the special surprise. (Last year they took Maw-maw for a ride on a mule carriage, the sisters said. And the year before that -- Get this! -- they took her for a lap dance. Yes, for her 95th birthday. Only in New Orleans, right?)

Finally Maw-maw came out, silver-haired, slender and erect. She walked with a cane, but I got the impression she could have gotten by OK without it. (She had a lot less trouble getting in and out of the pedicab than a lot of people half her age.)

"Look what we've got for you Maw-maw!" they said.

"No mule carriage this year?" she asked.

"No Maw-maw, we got you a chariot this year!" one of them said.

"I hope you're not disappointed," I said to Maw-maw. "Just tell me this. Who's better looking: me or the mule?"

"I'd have to go with you," she said. (It was good to hear it, but then again, her eyesight probably isn't all that great, so I know shouldn't let it go to my head.)

"Have you ever had a 97-year-old rider before?" she asked me.

"No ma'am, you're the first. I'm really excited about taking you for your special birthday ride. In fact, I'm already hoping that I get to take you for a ride again in 3 years for your 100th!"

"Sounds great," she said. "I'll be here!"

We just cruised around the French Quarter for 20 or 30 minutes with no particular destination. Maw-maw and two of the granddaughters rode with me; her daughter and her other granddaughter followed behind in the other pedicab. The whole way the two granddaughters were summoning up memories as they pointed out the sights to one another and to Maw-maw.

Look, that's where Labiches used to be! Remember?


Maw-maw, remember that year we took you there for your birthday?


Maw-maw, I've got a picture of you and paw-paw standing on that corner when he was still alive.

Meanwhile, I was making a few memories of my own. I'm sure that this is one ride I'll never forget even if I live to be 97.  I can hardly wait to do it again in three years if Maw-maw and I are still around.