I know a man, very high up in the highest spheres of our city’s high society, and he gives out advice every afternoon in a most generous manner. He has lunch at Commander’s Palace and, after several glasses of their best champagne, he allows shy souls to approach his table after they have first sent a message through Jared, the waiter.
I often have lunch at Commander’s too, and I am considering asking this handsome, distinguished gentleman for advice. I’ve heard Jared call him ‘Colonel’ when he presents him with a note. He is obviously from very good breeding. His grandfather probably was an officer with the Confederate army.
