Once upon a time, I thought a Viking funeral would be the way to go. Or at least what a lot of us imagine that to be. Placed in a boat with our belongings, pushed out to sea, and set on fire. When James and I were having wills drawn up, I even mentioned that to the attorney, only to be shot down.
Oh sure. Quibble over things like proper disposal of a body. The hoops you’d have to jump through just for the permits. Not to mention the prospect of having the Coast Guard put you out before the boat even had a chance to sink. But all of that would be for the nieces and nephews to work out. I mean if it’s in the will…
However, after watching the passing of Queen Elizabeth unfold this last week, I’m realizing I may have been thinking too small. Funeral processions in carriages. Laid out at Westminster. People queueing for miles. There might just be more than one way to go.
Unfortunately, I am not The Queen. A queen, yes. But I’m not expecting that to have quite as much pull as being the late Ms. Windsor. Yet I’m not above having a little pomp and circumstance when the time comes.
Perhaps we start with a jazz funeral through the French Quarter in New Orleans, complete with a Second Line. Except I’m not sure where I would want to be placed so people could pay their respects. My first thought goes to Bourbon Pub, except the only place with enough room is the dance floor upstairs. And while I’ve enjoyed my share of nights dancing until odd hours, somehow the thump thump would probably just keep me awake, and I’d end up with a go-go boy dancing on top of the casket.
But then there’s always the pool table upstairs at Café Lafitte’s. In 20+ years of going there for Southern Decadence, I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone use it for playing pool. This year it was covered with a sheet of plywood, like the felt wasn’t already damaged.
And of course, like the Queen, I would expect there to be more than one destination to celebrate my last days. Which means heading off to Key West. I just hope I have enough frequent flyer miles by then. I don’t want to get stuck in traffic for hours on US1. Once was enough!
I’m just not sure what would happen once I was there. Somehow being laid out by the back bar at Bourbon St. Pub doesn’t seem like the best option. But the Atlantic is at one end of Duval and the Gulf of Mexico on the other. I’m sure someone has a boat they aren’t using.
And if it’s in the will, that wouldn’t be the worst way to go.
