When I was enlisted in the Coon-Ass navy, I would drive out of NO through Jefferson Parish to catch a chopper out to the rigs. On the way to Dulac you go though Des Allemands, once Catfish Capital of the World. I stopped for gas at a country grocery store, filled up my VW squareback, went in to pay, and got myself a 12-inch fried catfish po’boy. The clerk asked if I would like a beer to go with that. “Why, yes I would,” I responded. He proceeded to take a paper quart carton and fill it from the keg under the counter. Back on the two lane road between the ditches, I ran through the gears, driving with my knees, po’boy in one hand, quart of beer in the other. Isn’t this a beautiful world!