A Bit About The Beau

The Beau Rivage is the hotel where many of this week's Habitat volunteers are staying. Despite the fact that the rooms don't have their own coffee makers like the Holiday Inn Express, necessitating that you have to be fully dressed before you can enjoy your morning java jolt, it is a fine place, with several restaurants, upscale shops, a coffee house with the friendliest staff on the planet, large, posh rooms.....and a casino.

I have never understood the allure of gambling. Giving away my hard-earned money to bet on a the fickle finger of fate doesn't seem like fun.

Maybe that's because I'm gun-shy. In the 80s I bought some stocks that ended up being unintentional penny stocks, which was gambling without the buffet. Or the cocktails. I didn't even get a shrimp platter or glass of wine for my troubles, only a stack of worthless paper.

However, the Beau, beautiful as it is, has not caught up with the non-smoking laws that are standard operating procedure in most other parts of the country. Smoking is allowed in most of the hotel, to the delight of many guests who find themselves alternately breathing from their oxygen tanks and taking a drag.

As a result, when you go walking around to check out the shops and restaurants you come back to the room experiencing the scratchy-voiced sensation of having had a couple of cigarettes. I feel like Jerry Seinfeld, who once joked, "I'm a pack-a-day second-hand smoker."

But aside from that I can see why folks love it here. The staff treats you like a million bucks once you arrive. And even the non-Habitat guests have been quite friendly. A couple of times I've stopped for coffee in my Habitat gear (t-shirt, shorts, name tag, hard hat) and complete strangers thank me for the wonderful work Habitat is doing here on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

So all in all, the Beau is a place I will definitely visit again. But not for the gambling or even the food - which is delicious - but because those gals behind the counter at The Roasted Bean are the essence of Southern hospitality. I wish I could take them home to Wichita. But instead I'll take home the memory of their kindness. And raise a toast to them the next time I brew a pot of coffee at home. If I can remember how to do that.