A 90 Foot Sausage or a Dance with Your Eldest Daughter

Lisa and I both came down with the flu this past week. Despite our maladies, our awesome friend, Robert, insisted we come to his New Year's extravaganza. Apparently, we were going to perform a New Brunswick New Years tradition of going from house to house and singing a Cajun/French song asking for a 90 foot sausage, or, if they don't have that, a dance with their eldest daughter. When Lisa and I got to Robert's apartment, we were welcomed by a surly violin player and Robert's friends from New Brunswick, Mark and his girlfriend Tania, and the scrumptious aromas of food from "Bob the Chef's".

Robert had this really nice oriental rug in the middle of the floor which I did not see when I first walked in with my snow covered shoes. Then Lisa, heaping her plate with vegetarian greens, collards, rice and potatoe salad, sits down at the table and accidentally drops her food on the floor onto the expensive Oriental rug. When we sit at the table and replace the food, Lisa keeps leaning on the table and I look underneath the table and become aware that it is in fact not a table, but a piece of wood balanced on a small box. So every time Lisa leans on the table, I watch it go up 15 degrees and am nervous that my jambolaya, beer, and other acoutrements will go flying onto the rug.

We start learning the song in French, and I'm having a little trouble getting the words right. But it works out pretty well. Robert and Mark would say the part first while Lisa, Tania and me would repeat each verse in call and response. Each of us knew about a third of the lyrics, and it seemed that one of us would know the lyrics that the other one didn't know.

After practicing a few times we added in the violin and soon we were ready to hit the streets. We first hit the brownstones on Comm. Ave. It appeared that at 10 PM, alot of people were either out at parties, sleeping, watching Dick Clark's New Year's special, or at First Night. We knocked at a few doors and rang a few bells, but did not get much of a response at first. So, after getting turned away from a building by a disgruntled security guard, we hit the streets for a bit and sang to lots of Boston fans who enjoyed the violinist's Christmas carols as well as our French song and usually responded with the usual, Happy New Years, and go Red Sox. We sang the song to some people in a limo.

I had to go to the bathroom and I find as a rule, the nicer the place you choose to go to the bathroom in Boston, the more chance they will let you use it. You could stop at a small bar or pizza parlor or a convenience store or fast food place, and they will turn you away unless you are a customer. If you go to the Ritz Carleton or Eliot House, you will have the most enjoyable bathroom experience unhassled.

At the Eliot House, we had groupies calling to us from their rooms begging for our French carol. We even got our first tip on the streets of Boston singing our song for a couple waiting for a taxi in front of the hotel. The Doorman loved our carol so much, he was sad when we left. It should be said that no one gave us a 60 foot sausage or a dance with their eldest daughter.

At about 10 minutes to New Year's we passed a party where they were celebrating the new year with some hip hop dance music from their balcony. They invited us to their party, but we decided to sing to them from the street. When we told them we were going to do a Cajun carol, they said "Sure! What ever!!". They turned down the rap music and danced to our song.

It was 3 minutes to New Years and we were right near the Prudential. Mark opened up the champagne and we danced around the streets and toasted in the New Year. We got a lot of the night on film, which which I will stream from this blog as soon as it is ready.