This collection of characteristics is scattered through eclectic neighborhoods, sparkling like gems in the capital area’s sturdy setting. While generic Goliath-like shopping malls and chain stores encroach on Baton Rouge’s authenticity, local merchants throughout different zip codes are standing strong against corporate giants by selling fare and contributing flare to the historic neighborhoods that keep Baton Rouge real.

The 70808: Perkins Road Overpass Corridor

Stretching from City Park in the Garden District through Acadian Thruway, the Perkins Road Overpass area is a multifarious hodgepodge of shops, restaurants, bars and residents, exemplifying a local microcosm within the hustle and bustle of the city. This densely packed area is a local treasure containing a pharmacy, coffee shop, bookstore, grocery store, numerous boutiques, restaurants and bars within a mile and a half.

The overpass structure was built in 1937 by the Louisiana Highway Department, a creation of the Huey P. Long administration. Before then, trains stopping in the middle of the intersection caused traffic. Besides easing congestion, the new overpass also made the district more accessible to downtown and other areas, said Darius A. Spieth, professor of art history at Louisiana State University.

Spieth noted that when Perkins Road’s perpendicular neighbor, Interstate 10, moved into the area in 1964, it took away many structures, but it also increased the flow of travelers into the neighborhood with the new Perkins Road highway exit.

During that time, the area began attracting Baton Rouge bohemians thanks to the low rent, proximity to LSU and the music scene. According to Spieth, The Colonel’s Club, now Chelsea’s Restaurant and Bar, and Ruby’s, now George’s Restaurant, were the center of the ‘60s musical landscape.

Baton Rouge historian Annabelle Armstrong resides off Zeeland Street near the Perkins overpass. Armstrong, who also authored the book “Historic Neighborhoods of Baton Rouge,” said, “A neighborhood needs to put the welfare of its residents first, not the interests of those who would profit from it and do not care about the heritage and attractiveness.

“I consider that neighborhoods need to band together, establish some rules or guidelines and security,” Armstrong said in an email. “We will always have those who look to make money while not caring for the preservation of the neighborhood’s heritage.”

Christine Caluag, president of the Perkins Historic Merchants District Association, grew up in Florida, surrounded by planned communities and urban sprawl. She said areas in Baton Rouge, like Mid-City, add local flavor that attracts people from the creative class to come live and work in the city.

“People won’t move to a city without any soul,” Caluag said.

Eat: Zeeland Street Market, Garden District Coffee, Digiulio Brothers Italian restaurant,Chelsea’s restaurant, Pinetta’s Italian restaurant, Rama Thai cuisine, Frankie’s Dawg House, Zippy’s Burritos, Tacos and More, Parrain’s seafood, Schlitz and Giggles’ pizza

Shop: Billy Heroman’s flower shop, Country Corner convenient store, Varsity Sports, Coyote Moon gifts, Royal Standard gifts, Amies boutique, Noelie Harmon’s eco-shop, Cottonwood Books, Bella Bella boutique

Play: Chelsea’s restaurant and bar, Duvic’s martini bar, Ivar’s Irish Pub, Zee Zee Gardens, Schlitz and Giggles and Zippy’s Burritos, Tacos and More

See: The annual St. Patrick’s Day parade

The 70802: North Gate

A well-beaten path for generations of Tiger fans, as well as an authentic purveyor of Baton Rouge spirit, North Gate’s contagious character and sense of community reverberates with a lifetime of Saturday nights in Death Valley.

The North Gate has been a diamond in the rough — withstanding decades of changing economics and an ever-growing south side of campus — but it has maintained a sense of authenticity that has resonated with students and residents for the past 80 years.

The north side of LSU’s campus has hosted nearly 450 vendors since 1926, when the original campus moved from downtown. Decades in the shadow of the University brought the area student-oriented businesses, like grocery stores, movie theaters, clothing stores, shoe shops, restaurants, drug stores, hair salons, book stores, auto repair shops and even a bowling alley.

A mix of businesses and countless residents have called North Gate home throughout the past 80 years.  From 1925 until about 1980, most off-campus activity happened north of campus according to Clarke Cadzow, owner of Highland Coffees in the North Gate area.  In 1929, the Kappa Alphas built a stately house where Chimes Textbook Exchange is now, the first of several fraternity houses that would be located in the formally known “Tiger Town,” according to Cadzow. Slinky’s Bar was once Chunky Moon’s Glow Hut ice cream shop, then later The Chimes Theatre. The original Co-Op bookstore now houses Highland Coffees. Other Baton Rouge businesses were former North Gate residents, like The Backpacker, Counter Culture yogurt and Chelsea’s.

Cadzow said Chimes Street provided off-campus housing for the University, but most of the apartments in the area were built east of Highland Road, especially on State, Ivanhoe and Carlotta streets.  In the 1930s, State Street was called Professor’s Row, and up until the 1950s other university employees, area business owners and families populated the area. Ivanhoe was called University Street, and Carlotta was formerly Louisiana Street until the roads were renamed in the 1940s.

From 1925 until about 1980, most off-campus activity occurred north of campus, Cadzow said. While many students live south of campus today, he said the North Gate area still offers the benefits of being just steps off campus and walkable. Most other shopping areas are strip malls dominated by parking lots and chain stores, located on busy streets that are hard to get to by foot or bicycle.  Cadzow continued that strip malls tend to look like the shopping areas found in every other city and lack character.

“The North Gates is a historic, college-town neighborhood and second oldest commercial and residential area.  The neighborhood provides a unique sense of community that helps define the city,” Cadzow said. “Because of its location and history, it cannot be duplicated.”

Eat: The Chimes, Roul’s burgers, Highland Coffees, Reginelli’s pizza, Bacio di Roma gelato, Koi sushi and Inga’s sandwiches.

Shop: Bengals and Bandits, Eutopia salon, Storyville, Chimes Textbook Exchange, The Bicycle Shop, The Ra Shop and Hi-Life Wonderland

Play: The Varsity Theatre, North Gate Tavern, Slinky’s bar and The Chimes tap room

See: North Gate Festival every fall semester

The 70806: Mid-City

Once a neighborhood of honky-tonks in the “country,” Mid-City is now a smorgasbord of blue- and white-collar residences, lawyers’ offices, thrift stores, top-ranked schools, bicycle shops, family-owned restaurants, hospitals and commercial industries that flow along the main vein of Baton Rouge into the heart of downtown.

Mid-City was originally a forested oak grove where residents gathered moss in those woods and sold their pickings to the Schlosh Moss Factory on Dufrocq Street (now 19th Street).  That factory then made mattresses out of the moss, according to Mary Ann Caffery, owner of Caffery Gallery on Government Street. Caffery said that’s why the acorn is the logo for the Mid-City Merchants Association, and grand oaks still stand guard over that history, lining streets of the neighborhood. By 1908, Governor Jared Young Sanders oversaw the extension of Government Street, bringing the country to town.

The diversity of the neighborhood’s history is still firmly rooted today, with many businesses and buildings calling Mid-City home for decades. In the early 1940s,  Calandro’s Supermarket opened on Government Street in its present location. The Circa 1857 Art and Architecture building dates back to 1920 when it was the old Griffon’s Drug Store on the corner of Government and Park Street. Doe’s Eat Place was opened as a honky-tonk in 1941 by Dominick Doe Signa and his wife, Mamie, and it later became a thriving restaurant, according to the Merchants of Mid-City organization.

Travis Hans, owner of Mid-City Bikes, has lived in the area for five years. The bohemian bike man said Mid-City is the best neighborhood in Baton Rouge because of the area’s diversity, with “the hood in the North and the plastics in the South.”

Caffery said Mid-City is a mix of social classes without any gated areas, encompassing a little bit of everything that’s special to Baton Rouge, including restaurants and entertainment, along with the largest concentration of independent, art-related businesses in the city.

“People who value art have rich, full lives,” Caffery said. “People migrate to [Mid-City] because it embraces that.”

Eat: Bistro Byronz, Brew Ha Ha coffee, Doe’s Eat Place, Fleur de Lis pizza, Monjuni’s Italian Cafe and Grocery, Rotolo’s Pizzeria, Superior Grill, Yvette Marie’s Cafe, La Carreta, MJ’s Cafe

Do: Yoga Bliss, RedStick Cross Fit, Agame Yoga and Meditation Center, Corks n’ Canvas

Shop: Circa 1857, Mid-City Bikes, Calandro’s Supermarket, Hemingway’s cigar shop, Little Beaux Feet, Match Point Tennis and Fitness Boutique, Sabai Jewelry Gallery, Time Warp, Honeymoon Bungalow, Bohemia, Caffery Gallery,  Elizabethan Gallery, Gerard Furniture and Gallery

Play: Corks n’ Canvas, Superior Bar and Grill, Phil Brady’s

The Towns: Spanish Town, Beauregard Town and Downtown

In 1699, Sieur D’Iberville and a boat of sea-legged garçons traveled along the swampy shore of the Mississippi River and stumbled upon a red cypress pole, marking the border between two Native American nations. The explorers dubbed the area the city Le Baton Rouge. After switching hands between the city’s French founders, the British and Spanish, Baton Rouge’s cultural identity remains as diverse as the numerous countries that claimed it.

Spanish Town reflects the colorful exchange of cultures since its establishment in 1805, making it the oldest neighborhood in town, according to the Historic Spanish Town Civic Association. But if you visit the residents who live there, Spanish Town is much more than a historical site.

The zeal of the thriving neighborhood located minutes from downtown can be seen in the hodgepodge of residents that range from artists to attorneys, all proudly supporting the neighborhood’s mascot, the pink flamingo — seen strutting frequently during Spanish Town’s annual Mardi Gras parade.

Beauregard Town is the younger,    lesser known brother of Spanish Town, named for Captain Elias Beauregard, whose property was used in 1806 to create Baton Rouge’s second subdivision, according to the Beauregard Town Civic Association. Beauregard envisioned a town laid out in the grand manner similar to European cities with parks, formal gardens and public buildings. A plan drawn by French engineer and surveyor Arsene LaCarriere La Tour featured public squares, plazas and pleasure gardens, a convent, hospital, college, coliseum, cemetery and cathedral, according to the Downtown Development District website.

Located downtown, Beauregard Town is bounded by the Mississippi River on the west, North Boulevard, East Boulevard and South Boulevard.  It once also included the former warehouse district, Catfish Town, before the revitalization development occurred in the southwest area of the neighborhood.

While Beauregard’s grand plan didn’t fully materialize, the tree-lined streets, shotgun houses and welcoming porches offer a glimpse of the area’s ambitious past and promising future. Since the 1960s, this historic gem has been neglected, but recent efforts from the city, residents and the Beauregard Civic Association are revitalizing the ageing area.

While Beauregard Town has lived in the shadow of its serendipitous sister neighborhood, Spanish Town, the area has its own unique disposition.

Tarek Shahla, attorney in Baton Rouge, lived in Beauregard Town for five years. Shahla said while the area is still recovering from numerous years of neglect, the neighborhood is slowly but surely becoming a staple  in the downtown area.

“Beauregard Town is one of the most beautiful neighborhoods in Baton Rouge, and it is definitely one of the friendliest,” Shahla said. “Few neighborhoods can compare to its sense of community and its history.”

Eat: Pastime Pizza, Frost Top, Little Village, Tsunami Sushi, Strands Cafe, Stroube’s, Capital City Grill, Schlitz & Giggles, Harrington’s Cafe, Serop’s Cafe, Atrium Buffet, Capital Corner Creamery, Christina’s, Downtown Seafood, Fresh Salads & Wraps, Poor Boy Lloyd’s, Riverside Patty, Sadaf Cafe Greek & Lebanese, Lucy’s Retired Surfers Bar & Restaurant, The King Bar & Bistro at the Hotel Indigo

Shop: Capital Grocery, Beauregard Gallery and Bistro

Play: Spanish Moon, Little Village, Tsunami Sushi, Strands Cafe, Stroube’s, Capital City Grill, Schlitz & Giggles, Harrington’s Cafe, Serop’s Cafe, Atrium Buffet, Capital Corner Creamery, Christina’s, Downtown Seafood, Fresh Salads & Wraps, Poor Boy Lloyd’s, Riverside Patty, Sadaf Cafe Greek & Lebanese, Lucy’s Retired Surfers Bar & Restaurant, The King Bar & Bistro at the Hotel Indigo

What began as a mix of musically ambitious high school graduates evolved into a cohesive college indie rock band, complete with guitarists solicited from Craigslist and hungry undergraduates starving for their

big break in the eclectic Baton Rouge music scene. Like many bands, the student-comprised Human Like Me transformed

from adolescent performers into a competitive band by exiting the garage and entering the recording studio.

Since Human Like Me was green on the Baton Rouge music scene in 2010, like most up-and-coming bands, the group had to pay close attention to its budget.

“We had to keep the cheapest options for recording in mind while receiving a quality product,” lead singer and synthesizer player Justin Efferson said. “I believe we achieved that with our album ‘The People You Love Become Ghosts Inside You.’”

Efferson, along with bass player Ty- ler Branch and guitarists Andy Carter and Kenny Magee, paid out-of-pocket to fund the band’s debut album and distributed the costs evenly among the band members.

The group also used Alejandra Aguirre and Heidi Post to create and arrange the album artwork, free of charge.

“It’s important to work with other young artists starting out because they want to get their name out there just like the bands, making the process more like a trade-off than a rip-off,” Magee said.

To transform their thoughts into tracks, the group sought the expertise of Adam Carrillo, a business sophomore who started his recording company, The Dizzy Records, in his two-bedroom off-campus apartment one year ago.

Recording locally

Typical college apartments house secondhand furniture, decorative posters immortalizing film favorites from “Break- fast at Tiffany’s” or “Anchorman,” hot beer and cold pizza congealing after a night-out in Tigerland and textbooks hidden under the past seven seasons of “Grey’s Anatomy.”

Not Carrollo’s two-bedroom South- gate apartment.

The 19-year-old’s mundane apart- ment façade conceals a musician’s Mecca.

The living room features a Plexiglas sound room, along with an array of professional recording equipment near a beanbag chair.

$15 an hour for on-site tracking, mixing and mastering, $20 an hour for off-site tracking and $40 an hour for studio drum tracking — prices well below pricey re- cording rates in bigger cities.

“My goal is attract college bands, like Human Like Me, by offering them quality work at an affordable price,” Carrollo said.

Other budding Baton Rouge bands have also used local help to produce their music.

Merchandise: the breadwinner of a band

England in 1819 began as a family- affair with brothers Dan and Andy Callaway and their father, William. In 2009, they formed the band along with Jonathon Alcon on the drums, Chip Zoller with the oboe and wood blocks, Zuly Inirio manning the glockenspiel and vocals and Sebastian Jungschafferkeepingrhythmwithpercussion.

The band used the now-defunct Baton Rouge institution Phantom Party Records to master its debut album, “Three Cheers for Bertie.” Pianist and vocalist Andy Callaway said the postulation of Phantom Party began as a good idea that never met its full potential.

“Phantom Party helped form a local band union to help musicians get shows and establish a local scene,” Andy said.

“They had good intentions, but it never worked out.”

But bassist and French horn player Carrollo previously charged bands Dan Calloway said Phantom Party offered $100 per song. But with so many procras- a pearl of wisdom about making money: tinating college students, he now charges the group pushed merchandise — the prime provision of profits for starving new musicians.

“Merchandise is the main way to make money, something we didn’t learn until a year ago,” Dan said. “The money made at the door isn’t enough.”

The band used Silky Screens, an independent shop selling affordable screen- printed apparel to make t-shirts for at-cost prices. England in 1819 made twice as much on t-shirt sales as it did on admission prices, creating large profits at shows.

The band’s debut album cost the modest production price of $1,000 but the group decided they would forgo higher sound quality to save money.

“The first album was a great learn- ing experience because we did it on our own, but we wanted to make the second album more professional,” Dan said. “We recorded at Piety Studios in New Orleans for $950 a day.”

Andy said the band practiced con- stantly because of limited time in the pricey recording studio, but the constrained time helped the group work harder and more ef- ficiently on the album.

“I’d advise new bands to not show up to the studio and think it is going to magi- cally happen — it takes time,” Andy said.

Recording an album independently is not always a naïve idea, but Dan said when it comes to finalizing the album, a band may end up with a product that sounds raw if they are not experts — “unless you have a music mastering degree, get someone else to mix and master the album.”

That’s good news for Baton Rouge band Startisan.

Do it yourself

The seasoned group’s keyboardist Jon Scholl received a degree in studio production and owns the requisite recording equipment.

Startisan formed from members of different bands around the country, and it created its first album, “Decade Array Vol. 1,” completely on its own.

Unlike other bands, the sky was the limit for Startisan’s recording capability, thanks to Scholl’s expertise and equipment as well as guitarist and Baton Rouge native Derek DeBlieu parents’ garage-attic-turned- recording-studio.

“We were lucky because unlike other bands, we could spend as much time as we needed on our album,” Scholl said. “We aren’t in the hole with money and we cre- ated a full-length album in five months.”

Scholl advised new bands beginning an album to learn the recording basics of simple things like guitars, keyboards, vocals and other components that don’t require intensive or expensive mics. He said this can save a band lots of money and makes recording an album a much more reachable feat.

Similar to Human Like Me, Startisan used the website Discmaker to manufacture and duplicate their CDs. With the online site, a CD package can include 1,000 disks and cases for $999, or about $1 per CD.

But what if a band lacks the personal finances, equipment or expertise to properly record an album?

Finances from fans

Former 2009 LSU Battle of the Band’s winner, Prom Date, faced such a challenge for its album, “Clock Out.”

The band found a solution to its funding problems with Kickstarter, an online fundraising platform that helps artists earn revenue from fans who pledge money to bands, helping them achieve specific financial goals, Prom Date bassist Nick Boudreau said.

“It’s a rewarding process because in Baton Rouge it’s hard to earn funding through shows because the music scene isn’t big enough to play every night, where New Orleans or other big cities offer more options,” Boudreau said. “With Kickstarter, Prom Date set a goal to raise $2,000. If a fan pledged $15, they’d get a CD. The more fans contributed, the larger the in- centives would become fans contributed,” Boudreau said.

However, in order for Kickstarter to truly work, bands cannot expect to beg for money as if it were a car wash. Boudreau said bands have to be dedicated and put forth a large effort to attract participation.

“It’s more than begging for money,” Boudreau said. “It forms a connection be- tween bands and the fans, a goal that all bands set, even if they do have the finances.”

At the end of the day, whether a band pays out of pocket or performs for profits, money always seems to be the Achilles’ heel of musicians. But bands similar to Human Like Me, England in 1819, Startisan and Prom Date prove that tying an album to- gether on a shoe-string budget can be done, as long a band finds a little scratch to start.

After working years in retail, Crystal Berthelot felt she needed more from her job — something different, something daring, something satisfying.

And that’s what she found as a Pure Romance consultant.

At age 20, she retired from fixing cellular phones to fix women’s sex lives.

“I don’t work for Pure Romance,” she said. “I work with Pure Romance.”

Pure Romance is an in-home party company that sells a sophisticated line of various relationship aids, Berthelot explained. The line includes everything from shower gels, lip glosses and perfumes to a number of bedroom accessories and sex toys.

Berthelot, an education junior dual-enrolled at the University and at Southeastern Louisiana University, is one of 40,000 independent Pure Romance sales consultants throughout the United States, Canada, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands, according to the website.

But no two saleswomen are the same.

Berthelot sets her own rules, her own schedule and her own party atmosphere.

It all started when Berthelot attended a friend’s Pure Romance Bachelorette party.

“I worked in retail since high school but always felt like I wasn’t being worked to my potential. I always felt like there was more I could do,” she said. “I started thinking about Pure Romance when my friend mentioned it to me, and I just kind of jumped in.”

She was only 18.

“I thought no one would buy from me,” she said. “I waited until I had the money built up and saved away so I could go in without debt. When I finally decided to do it, I was so happy. “

Berthelot signed up as an independent consultant in January.

“I bought a large start-up kit, and I did my first party the next week,” she said.

Her start-up kit included training materials, items to demonstrate and product to sell. She said though it was expensive, she preferred to buy the largest kit so she could have product on hand for her first party.

“After the first two parties, I made back the starter kit,” she said.

SEX SELLS

Berthelot soon realized the parties produced two things – pleasure and profit.

“I buy the product at a discounted rate, I pay the taxes, I pay the shipping and then once I get the product, I sell it at full price and take all of the profit,” she explained.

She sells her product by hosting parties on a weekly basis for groups of up to 30 people.

“I hardly ever do parties during the week,” she said. “They are usually on a Friday, Saturday and Sunday.”

Berthelot said the parties range from girl’s night out to bachelorette parties.

“It’s free to book the party, and you get hostess rewards, which is a free gift based on how much I get,” she said. “For example, if I make $500, you would get $50 in free product.”

Berthelot said all of her money comes from the sales, and she can expect to make about $100 per guest.

“I get enough money to pay my bills and live my life,” she said. “And I have extra money.”

This extra cash has gone toward the hiring of a personal assistant, Berthelot said.

“She is present at parties, and she takes inventory for me — I hate doing that,” Berthelot said. “Having her there makes it easier for me to focus on the guests.”

Her assistant, who is not affiliated with Pure Romance, helps with the order information and clerical work. She also helps Berthelot prepare for parties each week.

PARTY FOREPLAY

Berthelot said being a consultant has taught her a lesson in marketing, as she is required to get the word out about her business.

“I make it rain with my cards,” she joked.

Creating Facebook fan pages, posting fliers at local businesses and distributing business cards are just a few ways Berthelot attracts new customers each week.

Once a hostess calls to make an appointment, she books the date and begins preparation.

Berthelot said it is important to have a strong line of communication between the consultant and the hostess to ensure the party goes smoothly.

“Before the party, we make everyone a folder,” she said. “The folders add to the personal experience, and guests can leave with something tangible.”

Each folder, which is usually pink or red, is equipped with an order form, a business card, hostess information, a pen and of course, the Pure Romance catalog.

The catalog is 47 pages of merchandise and the Pandora’s box of “fun” parties.

THE MAIN EVENT

The party atmosphere is lax, playful and filled with estrogen. The guests sit around and chat while Berthelot sets up her merchandise on a table in front of the crowd.

Berthelot reaches into a hot pink plastic bin and begins to pull out objects at random, placing the tamer items in front and x-rated toys near the back. The set-up follows Berthelot’s presentation.

She starts out by introducing herself to the women and explaining what the party scene will be.

“First, let’s set some ground rules,” she said, as she pulled out a marker and wrote ‘Rules’ on a large piece of white poster board.

The women laughed as they brainstormed and announced rules like “don’t say the word ‘moist’” and “don’t punch anyone in the face.”

After the rules, Berthelot instructed everyone to open their catalogs to page one. She also advised the guests to ask questions.

“It’s all about educating women about their bodies. It’s discussing things that are safe and things that aren’t safe,” she said. “It helps them have a better bedroom life — whether it’s by themselves or with a partner.”

The first few pages appeared to be from a standard beauty supply magazine – lip gloss, creams, body washes. The items were flavored, scented and even pheromone induced.

As Berthelot spoke, the items were passed around the room. The girls tested the products on their hands and wrists, sniffing the application or licking it off. The products circulated, and the aroma of sweet candy filled the air.

The crowd was comfortable, and women raved about products they had tried before.

After the group flipped through the first part of the magazine and after everyone was doused in sexy scents, Berthelot announced the first break.

“I do a presentation set, take a break — I’ll go somewhere private and take questions — then I do the other part, and I take more questions in the order room,” she said.

Berthelot said the guests have the opportunity to ask her questions they didn’t feel comfortable asking in front of the other guests.

“At every party I go to, I have at least four or five private questions,” she said. “There are certain things that people want to be discrete about, so it works great. They can feel comfortable with me, and it helps sales.”

When 10 to 20 minutes pass, Berthelot enters the room again. The women anxiously open their booklets, scanning the items on the page.

The next section sends good vibrations through the audience.

Berthelot demonstrates the toys as she highlights the various types Pure Romance offers. They vary in size and shape, with comical names like “7th Heaven” for a toy with seven settings and “Nectar Connector” for a multi-speed, fluttering gadget shaped like a hummingbird.

She passes a few demonstration toys around the room, and the women laugh as the toys vibrate in their hands. Exclamations like “whoa!” and “how do you turn this on?” can be heard simultaneously from different corners of the room.

The next group is a multi-colored spread of realistic phallic toys.

Battery-Operated Boyfriend, or B.O.B., seems to be a crowd favorite as it thrusts around the room. The guests fidget with the settings, making it move faster and slower as their eyes widen.

More toys make their rounds, as Berthelot details the tantalizing technology.

THE CLIMAX

The final pages of the catalog are filled with naughty games, bondage supplies and outfits.

Once Berthelot finishes her presentation, she tells the women it is time for questions and for shopping.

The room silences as the guests look through the inventory, circling items and calculating their total prices on the back of the catalogs.

Berthelot enters a separate room to keep the sales confidential.

“I take everyone in to private room, do the order, and they get a bag you can’t see through,” she said.

“What I usually say is ‘If you wanna pull it out and show it to everyone you can, but don’t feel like you have to. You are under no obligation to say what you bought.’”

Berthelot said making the guests comfortable and happy is her No. 1 rule.

“It’s not about just pitching products — it’s finding solutions for the customer and the person because customer A is different from customer B,” she said.

Berthelot said women need to be satisfied, and it is her responsibility to educate and empower them.

“It’s a great learning experience,” she laughed. “You will learn things about your body that you never knew existed.”

For the aspiring school teacher, the education aspect of Pure Romance is her favorite but also the most challenging.

“Educating kids is great, but educating adults is very different,” she said. “You have to get past the age barrier; you have to prove yourself.”

Berthelot said one of the hurtles she faces is convincing adults to believe her despite her age.

But she is not alone, said Genine Fallon, senior director of public relations at Pure Romance.

“We actually have a large majority of younger consultants,” Fallon said. “It’s really a mix of ages, but I would probably say about 25 percent are of younger age.”

Fallon said this generation is taking responsibility for sexuality, contrary to the women before them. She said being introduced to Pure Romance when a woman is young is beneficial, as the company provides information for women on their bodies before they are involved in relationships.

“It may be a challenge at first, but  Pure Romance provides such a solid ground and solid education on products that people will get over age very quickly,” she said. “It’s not just about sex toys; the sell of the product is secondary to our mission of empowerment.”

Berthelot agreed, saying the customer’s enjoyment is more important than the success of a party.

“It’s not how much money I make,” she said. “It’s that I made somebody’s life better.”

Illustrations by Olivia Hartzog

By graduation, Sherman visited more than 35 countries, most classified as Third World. Sherman spent a year at an orphanage in Guatemala where he learned the importance of empowering people.

“I grew up in upper-middle class, white America [in Dallas, Texas],” he recalls. “[Guatemala] was my first exposure to seeing real poverty.”

Home for a Home

Sherman took the experience with him into the business world as chief marketing officer for Aspen Heights, a nationwide college-housing business with a Baton Rouge location opening in August. He founded the Aspen Heights in Africa project, a foray into the growing trend of social consciousness in business.

Social consciousness in business is not officially defined but involves values-based judgement in decision making and a recognition of the impact a business makes on the rest of the world.

One of the most famous examples of socially conscious businesses is TOMS and the one-for-one model.

Blake Mycoskie founded TOMS, which provides shoes for someone in need with every pair purchased. The company grew rapidly and by September of 2010 had given more than one million pairs of shoes away.

Mycoskie’s work was particularly influential for Sherman when he developed Aspen Heights in Africa.

“I’d already been real motivated by what [Mycoskie] had done and the whole one-for-one concept, so that’s what started the idea,” Sherman said. “How can we do a similar model using student living to provide living in Africa? We call our program A House for a Home, which means that for every lease we get, we provide housing for someone in Africa. That’s our statement.”

Although the plans for housing are in the beginning stages, Aspen Heights currently provides housing for more than 300 girls in Kenya at the Inberkani School. The school was founded because the area had no schooling for girls past the 8th grade. Now, of Inberkani’s first class of 40 girls, 26 have made it to college in Kenya.

“Our vision is that one day we can be developers and actually build houses in a village somewhere there’s not running water or a school. To be part of something like that — that is our dream,” Sherman said. “As developers, we would use our expertise to go over there and hire laborers that may not have work. We’re simply providing funding, not taking jobs away from anyone, just helping to create them.”

Sherman said Aspen Heights in Africa looks to begin developing its own projects within the next three to four years. Each location participates in the Africa project, and currently one of the main focuses is to begin bringing Aspen Heights’ residents as volunteers to Kenya to help them discover the different living situation.

“Another aspect would be to let our business be one of several donors to the project,” said Sherman. “We’re starting fundraising events. We want to start doing annual fundraising events so that a lot more people than us can start giving to the project. We can run the organization, but we’d like to see a lot more fundraising happen, so it’s not just contingent on us.”

Sherman said he hasn’t had too much trouble developing Aspen Heights in Africa, crediting Aspen Heights’ rapidly growing business for the strength of the Africa project.

“If we continue to grow the way we have, it will just get stronger and stronger as we grow,” said Sherman. “We have a seven-year growth plan that we’re already several projects ahead of, so we’re really confident that the Africa project has enough economic stability as it needs.”

Buying Local

Social consciousness has made its way to Baton Rouge in retail as well, notably with the opening of Noelie Harmon on Earth Day in 2006. Noelie Harmon co-owner Amy Strother maintains concern for the environment, local artisans and business values in its business plan.

Strother began her career as owner of a health care business in which she aimed to maintain an environmentally sustainable business. She also implemented a sustainability plan to keep a low environmental impact and what Strother calls an “employee-oriented socially responsible program.” The program included a wellness plan and promised to pay employees fair living wages.

Strother was influenced by the store’s selling socially conscious products she would see in other parts of the country.

“It was sort of aggravating that you couldn’t go to one locally owned place and get socially responsible products [in Baton Rouge],” said Strother. “It was aggravating, as an environmentalist and a socially conscious person.”

Strother sought to bring this social consciousness to the local Baton Rouge retail scene and succeeded with the opening of Noelie Harmon.

All items in the store fall into one or more of four categories: eco-friendly, fair trade, socially responsible or made by a local artisan.

“Our mission is to have every product tell a story. Every product and brand, you can read a story about it. Essentially what has evolved is each product is in one or more categories, sometimes all four,” explains Strother. “You might be helping the environment or helping a family across the world and giving away to a charity all at the same time.”

According to Strother, becoming totally social conscious in  Baton Rouge has not been easy.

“In all honesty, until about three or four months ago, I didn’t know if Baton Rouge really got it. I didn’t think we were going to make it,” Strother said. “I think we finally hit the threshold. People really love our store. I think we’ll be around.”

Strother says it was a risk putting Noelie Harmon in a “non-green city,” but believes Baton Rouge is coming around. Many customers, however, still go to the boutique and look around without ever making a purchase, which Strother says is problematic for a small local store.

“They don’t understand that you have to buy something to keep a local store open. There are local artists that we support, some of whom are practically starving, so just buying one product helps keep a place like [Noelie Harmon] open,” Strother said. “In Baton Rouge, there’s still a disconnect.  People don’t understand that buying from a local business keeps money in the community. We’re very far behind from that standpoint.”

Photography by Grant Guiterrez

Caitlyn and Marlee ponder the menu looking for the perfect dish. Photograph by Sahir Khan

Imagine never having contact with anyone besides your parent or guardian in your entire lifetime. For half of all intellectually handicapped people, this is a harsh reality. Caitlyn Louviere and the LSU chapter of Best Buddies are working to eliminate this reality.

Louviere serves as president of the University’s chapter of Best Buddies, an international program dedicated to providing one-on-one friendships between members of the community and locals with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

The organization was started in 1989 by Anthony Kennedy Shriver in an effort to improve living conditions for the intellectually disabled. According to its Web site, Best Buddies has an impact on about 400,000 individuals a year. Louviere took over the presidency of the LSU chapter a year ago, revamping the club from a small organization that only had six to eight matched buddies to a force in the community that boasts about 48 matched buddies.

“It’s funny because I never thought the club would be my life, but it has, and it’s a great thing,” Louviere said. Louviere first met her buddy Marlee Richterman at one of the club’s match parties, where college buddies meet their intellectually disabled buddy for the first time. Since their meeting, Louviere and Marlee have kept up a now two-year long relationship that Louviere says is “just like any real friendship.”

Once college buddies get matched with a handicapped buddy, they are required to meet up with their buddy twice a month, and call them once a week. The friendships between buddies usually grow beyond the minimum requirements, Louviere said. “It’s really cool when [college buddies] are proud of what their buddy has accomplished.”

“The handicapped buddies develop social skills to be treated as equals when they are friends with people that don’t have disabilities … when you combine the two, they learn so much from each other,” said Tiffany Rutledge, state director of Best Buddies Louisiana.

Marlee and Louviere often go out to eat, watch movies, communicate through Facebook and speak over the phone every night. “She just makes me happier – I don’t know where I’d be without her,” said Louviere. Marlee’s mother and doctors are unsure of what exactly Marlee’s condition is, but Louviere says her condition doesn’t prevent her from doing what she wants in life. “[The handicapped buddies] have something special about them just like everyone else does, and they may not be as good in other areas, but then, neither am I.”

Just like any other friendship, Marlee and Louviere’s has its ups and downs. When she first met Marlee, the biggest obstacle to overcome was Marlee’s naturally introverted nature, and Louviere initially found it hard to get Marlee to open up to her. “I realized that she really wanted to open up to me when her primary care doctor she knew since birth had died, and she called me crying,” Louviere said. Marlee’s mother apologized to Louviere, thinking Marlee had perhaps startled her, but said Marlee had only wanted to talk to Louviere about her grief.

“One thing I realized is that [Best Buddies] breaks [intellectually handicapped people] out of their shell,” Louviere said. Besides the club’s monthly meetings, Best Buddies also organizes special events such as a prom, a Valentine’s Day party, a Halloween party and the annual fundraiser Midnight Madness, a mission-based challenge in which buddies and chapter members complete tasks to raise money. Marlee doesn’t always socialize with the other buddies, but Louviere says she loves to dance and the Best Buddies prom helped Marlee interact and connect with the others in the group.

The most important aspect of the mentally handicapped community is that they are just like everyone else, Louviere said. “The biggest problem [facing the mentally handicapped community] is that people are afraid to interact with them. For the most part, it isn’t that people are trying to disrespect them. They’re just uncomfortable and don’t know what to say. The reality is that [the mentally handicapped] want to be treated like everyone else. They want to have the same conversations, they want to pay at the cash register at the grocery store, they don’t want people to finish their sentences when they stutter – they want to be independent.”

Lori Moore, program supervisor of Best Buddies Louisiana, stresses breaking down preconceived notions people may have about the mentally handicapped community.

Caitlyn and Marlee at a Best Buddies picnic on the LSU Parade Ground in November. Photograph courtesy of Caitlyn Louviere

“There’s such a stigma [about mentally handicapped people], and [Best Buddies] is trying to break down that barrier,” she said. Moore says mentally handicapped people are typically babied or treated like they aren’t capable of understanding or completing a task. “It’s not OK [to treat them differently]. The only way to learn social skills is to be treated as equals.”

Best Buddies retains a strict one-on-one policy between buddies, and buddies are supposed to get a new buddy at the beginning of every year. When she took over the club presidency, Louviere was unaware of the policy and has been Marlee’s buddy for two years. She, along with other club members who have maintained two-year relationships with their buddies, isn’t excited about the prospect of switching buddies after becoming so close with the buddy she knows so well. “Some buddies are really friendly and open up easily, but I worry about Marlee and buddies like Marlee. I’m worried about her going back into her shell.”

Maintaining the relationship with a handicapped buddy is not always easy for a college student. Louviere says the busy college schedule causes members to cancel with their buddies indefinitely, sometimes without telling Louviere.

“A lot of college kids get busy and have to tell me that they have to drop their buddy, but sometimes they don’t even let me know. I sat down and called all the buddies’ parents, and some of them hadn’t even met with their buddy more than once. What I try to reinforce is to say that it’s volunteer work – this isn’t a house or a vegetable garden; these are real people,” Louviere said.

Louviere plans to maintain her relationship with Marlee even after they switch buddies because Marlee helps keep Louviere grounded. “As a pre-med student at LSU, I’m a worry-wart and I sometimes call Marlee, and when she asks what’s wrong, and I say that I’m tired, she responds, ‘Hi Tired, I’m Marlee,’ and right away I start feeling better.”

After graduation, Louviere plans to attend medical school in New Orleans, but knows this will be harder to see Marlee as much as she does now. In the meantime, Louviere knows Marlee has changed her entire college experience for the better.

“Best Buddies in general has changed my perspective,” Louviere said. “I never looked down on people with disabilities, but I never saw them as able. [Best Buddies] has allowed me to see how very able they actually are.”

“As a kid, I saw a veteran as [an old] bum,” said James Wyant, a clean-cut microbiology sophomore with glasses.  “Now, I am one.”

Wyant, 26, received his discharge letter from the U.S. Navy last August. Wyant, like other men and women on campus, made the decision to postpone higher education to serve his country.

Charlie Pruitt, a 25-year-old landscape architecture sophomore, also delayed college for the military. Like Wyant, Pruitt agrees that he does not picture himself when he hears the word “veteran.”  Instead, he conjures up images of his grandfather.

“There is such a greatness associated with [being a veteran], you don’t associate it with yourself,” Pruitt said.

Although these students say they do not feel like heroes, veterans or patriots, they are. They have traveled from Iraq and back – and today, they are Tigers.

By Sea

“I knew that I always wanted to go to college, but I had no way to pay for it,” Wyant said. “Also, joining the Navy was a way to delay the decision of what path to pursue.”

Wyant explained that his family was supportive when he joined the Navy, despite that he did not come from a military upbringing.  In fact, he said his maternal grandfather led a pacifist organization and his father was not drafted into the Vietnam War because he was in seminary to become a United Church of Christ minister.

He said his friends and family thoroughly backed his decision, but he recalled being frequently questioned about what he would do if there were a war. He responded confidently, “There’s not going to be a war for at least 10 years.”

Wyant joined the military in August 2001.

“I was in boot camp when 9/11 happened … I woke up to tanks in the streets, civilian lockdown, and anti-raiding jacks … like you see on the beaches of Normandy in ‘Saving Private Ryan,’ ” he said.  “It was so surreal that we thought it had to be a training exercise.”

Wyant explained that nearly 300 recruits were corralled into a room to watch about one hour of pre-recorded CNN footage.

He was certain the Navy would buy him some time, but Wyant said he never imagined that he would serve six years in the military during wartime.

During the following years at sea, Wyant served on a submarine and received several medals for his service in Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom.

Wyant, a Los Angeles native, explained that the Navy allowed him to travel.

He said he lived in eight states, and joked that he also resided under water.

“I could never compile a complete list of the admirable people I served with,” Wyant said.  “My most enjoyable moment though, would be riding on the surface [of the ocean] at top speed at dawn without any land in sight.”

While Wyant said he feels his military experience was a positive one, he warns that the military is not for everyone.

“I would recommend the military to very few people. … I think it would be damaging to most people,” Wyant said. “I have seen people literally driven insane.”

Aside from the risks of pirates and battle, he said the day-to-day life in a submarine was unsettling.  He said there was no privacy in the cramped quarters of the submarine.  He also discussed how laborious it could be to do dirty jobs deep underwater.

One particular incident haunts him: A mechanical error shot sewage into the ship instead of the ocean. The crew was not allowed to surface for five days – after everything was cleaned.

“There was a geyser in the kitchen [ruining food],” he said, laughing, finding humor in a gruesome incident.  “It looked like three inch fudge mix.”

Situations like these caused the crew to call the vessel the “U.S.S. Green Evil” instead of its proper name, the Greenville.

Upon coming home from Iraq, Wyant was not only happy to be on dry land but also about how gracious most people were.  He said he surprised by the support for the troops, no matter the political party or opinion on the war.

“I feel like the veterans have gotten unprecedented support from the public, regardless of political belief,” Wyant said.

By Land

“I didn’t value college … I felt really bad for [letting down] my parents,” Pruitt said.

Pruitt explained that he joined the military in 2003 after a failed attempt at McNeese State University in his hometown of Lake Charles, La.

He said he didn’t research the military before joining; his decision to enlist was based on an article in the local newspaper about a friend who served in the initial invasion of Iraq.  He was intrigued by how the story featured his friend as a hero.

Pruitt decided to test the waters.

He told his friends and family he was considering joining the military to gauge their reactions.

“They said, ‘Oh, cool.’  I wanted to hear ‘no, no, don’t do it’  … I felt obligated [to join],” he joked.

With the support of his family and the advice of his military grandfather, Pruitt joined the Marines.

When Pruitt enlisted, he said he felt passionate about the cause he was defending in a post-9/11 world.

He spoke a lot about the camaraderie he felt with his fellow marines.  Pruitt explained that trust was key when it came to ground work in Iraq.

“Knowing that other people suffered through the same things as you really helps forge a relationship,” he said.

He described how interactions with civilians affected his view on the war. He said he was rarely scared on the ground in Iraq, but he warned in some cases he should have been.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays [insurgents] shot at us ,” Pruitt said, laughing at terrorist groups’ failed attempts to invoke fear in American soldiers.  “No one was ever injured … When they got off work, [they would] come shoot [rockets at] us.  They were terrible shots.”

He said Iraq was not how people would picture it.  There were rocky deserts, and he compared the dress of people in rural areas to the garb of “biblical times,” except they carried guns.  He also described the daunting scenery of rusted rockets and vacated buildings from the Persian Gulf War.

He described the Iraqi shepherd families that lived in tents, with only a few pots and pans and how his unit did what they could to help them.  Pruitt said he gave children toys and school supplies, families water and provided whatever other services he could.

Pruitt, like Wyant, discussed how sewage proved to be a problem while in the desert.  He said while protecting a highway in a rural area of Iraq, he and a handful of other men lived in a small, deserted, two-room building without indoor – or outdoor – plumbing.

He said the men had to dig holes to urinate in and other waste had to be put in a bag and burned.  When he finally got to a base with portable toilets he said he remembered feeling like it was “heaven.”

However, there were greater concerns while protecting the highway.  Pruitt said people would come to their fort and threaten them.  No attack ever actually occurred.

While Pruitt feels the Iraqi people are in great need of American assistance, he said they are not always accepting of help.  He added that he felt conflicted about everything he saw in Iraq.

“I didn’t necessarily agree with everything we did … but who am I to question?” he said.  “You want to see it work out for those people.  But at the same time they aren’t helping themselves.”

From Soldiers to Students

While their time in service was always stressful and sometimes scary, both Pruitt and Wyant agree it made them the men they are today.

During his time overseas, Pruitt said he realized how much “better” his life was than those of the Iraqi people.

“I was lucky enough [that] my parents could help me go to school.  It was a maturing process,” he said about how his military experience made him thankful for all of the privileges he had at home.  “I wanted nothing more than to go to school.”

Pruitt decided to go to LSU and worked hard to accomplish his goal.  He first attended Baton Rouge Community College to pull up his G.P.A. in order to enroll in the University.

Pruitt took a summer class at the University in 2008 and received an “A,” proving to himself and his family he could succeed at LSU.

“I want to design, something and see it come to life,” he said proudly, smiling through his 5 o’clock shadow.

While the Montgomery GI Bill helps Wyant with the financial aspects of student life, he also feels his personal growth spurred by his time in the military caused him to be the student he is today.

Currently in his fourth semester at LSU, Wyant has maintained a 3.8 G.P.A. and hopes to become a doctor.

“I know I’ll be in my 30s when I’m done with med school,” he said, laughing.  “In 10 years, I’ll be 10 years older no matter what I do, so I might as well pursue what I want. ”Wyant said that the age difference between he and his peers is not an issue.

“My friends may make fun of me, or call me an old man,” he said with a smirk. “But it’s no worse than what I call them.”

All jokes aside, Wyant said the LSU community is very accepting.

“I am glad to finally be [in college]. I feel that the label of ‘student’ and the label of ‘veteran’ seem to be different in society, but they aren’t,” he said.  “A student is someone who is working hard … and wants to accomplish something for the good of mankind. I would like to think that is the mission of the U.S. military.”

Webb was in high school, thinking about what he might name his next rock band before becoming a paramedic. DesOrmeaux went from singing and studying opera at the University to working at his father’s business firm before becoming a paramedic. Jones managed a struggling coffeehouse before becoming an EMT-Basic.

Their lives were full of false starts until they became immersed in the medical field; they haven’t looked back since. They’re still in school, studying for careers beyond paramedicine, but when it comes to balancing scholastic obligations and saving lives, the scale often tips in favor of the latter.

“It’s nothing like television.”

The helicopter ride was a stuffy one.

Aaron Webb, kinesiology junior, and a pilot are taking the 15-minute trip from Hammond to Our Lady of the Lake Hospital in Baton Rouge. Their patient is a two-year-old baby girl who just stopped breathing.

The propellers hum, whirling while they cruise at 120 mph, 1,000 feet above the capital city.

Nothing frightens Webb, the 30-year-old Acadian Ambulance helicopter paramedic from Baton Rouge. But he has always had a soft spot for transporting children.

“I’ve never lost sleep over anything, but most people would agree, in my field, dealing with kids is the more difficult situation. Everybody feels for the kids,” he said.

The scene seems ripped from hospital television dramas, but the experience is nothing like the small screen portrays.

“It’s nothing like television where you see everybody running,” he said. “If everybody ran with the stretchers with people on them, people would be tripping and falling. It doesn’t happen like that. Family members would probably like to see that because that’s what they see on TV.… but we have to look out for ourselves and the patients.”

Around the station, Webb is calm and collected. He fills the breaks during his 24-hour shifts by plucking his acoustic guitar. He watches a movie here and there on one of the several televisions at the station. He might even read a couple chapters of Tom Robbins’ “Still Life with Woodpecker.”

Webb took a break this semester to work and obtain sufficient funds needed to finish up his tenure at the University. Not having to worry about schoolwork has lifted a large burden off Webb’s shoulders.

“School is 10 times more stressful than my job,” he said.

Unlike the majority of other students on campus, Webb didn’t go straight from high school to college. But, he never foresaw becoming a paramedic.

“[This job was] never something I thought about doing in high school,” he said. “Somebody was talking about it in the last few months of my senior year, and there I was.”

Webb worked 12-hour shifts when he attended school, and now he’s working 24-hour shifts since he doesn’t have to accommodate his class schedule.

“On the helicopter, we have less calls than [most ambulances] do in that time-frame,” he said. “We average five to six calls in a 24-hour period, almost half are cancellations.”

Webb doesn’t mind cancellations. They give him a chance to enjoy the sights the ride back to the station has to offer.

Webb started before Hurricane Katrina and had the chance to fly over Tiger Stadium when the Saints hosted one of their four games in Death Valley. He remembers seeing the end zones stripped of their traditional purple and gold and repainted black and gold.

“You don’t see that sort of thing everyday,” he said.

The job does have many cons: the seemingly never-ending shifts; the money going toward education rather than a new guitar.

But even after working for almost a decade, Webb said it’s still worth it.

“Some things become so routine,” he said. “But there are situations when you … know you’ve been a really big part of saving a life, making sure they have the best care possible. That’s one of the most gratifying parts of the job.”

“I got tired of being a jerk.”

Floyd DesOrmeaux, anthropology junior, was tired of the consumer finance business.

“I had to repossess a sofa loveseat and a chair for nonpayment,” DesOrmeaux said. “Then I had to watch this 50-year-old lady lie down on the floor to watch ‘Oprah.’”

Instances like this caused DesOrmeaux to quit his job at an $8 million firm at the age of 29. He changed his lifestyle and became a paramedic for Acadian Ambulance.

“I got tired of being a jerk,” he said. “When I started doing [this job], I found out how naïve I was. It was an eye-opener. I was dealing with a part of society that was something you read about in the newspaper. I went from being micro-managed in every little task to doing what is expected of you on your own.”

DesOrmeaux is studying at the University to become a nurse while taking care of his wife, Jennifer.

His wife, a one-time college athlete, suffers from “serious back issues” after being a paramedic for around 14 years. Her discomfort is caused by degenerative discs and fibromyalgia, a chronic condition characterized by widespread pain in the muscles.

On campus, he’s a 45-year-old part-time student that sports his uniform or “street clothes,” depending on whether he has to work after class. Between making time for forensic anthropology, folklore and foreign language, he takes online classes at Excelsior University.

In his 17th year on the job, he has more than enough on his plate.

“I just [keep going]. That’s the only easy way to explain way it,” he said. “I don’t want sound pompous and say it’s because of my self-determination. I just know it’s what I have to do.”

DesOrmeaux originally planned to get his physician’s assistant degree, but taking care of his wife and family became top priority earlier this year. With so much going on outside the walls of campus, schoolwork doesn’t easily fit into his schedule.

“It’s hard as hell,” he said. “I could probably have a 3.5 [grade point average], but I have to make sacrifices for the sake of my family. My wife is slowly getting better. I’m very fortunate, and I’ve had wonderful teachers who are very understanding.”

On the ambulance, he rarely gets an adrenaline rush anymore.

“All we can do [for these patients] is keep them around until we get to the hospital where the doctors can take over,” he said.

Physically, he admits the job is a “young man’s game,” but emotionally, he still responds to each case.

“When it stops bothering you emotionally, that’s when it’s time to get out,” he said. “When you become numb to someone else’s pain and suffering, it’s time move on.”

With numerous hours under his belt, the thought of quitting his job to focus on family and his job has crossed his mind.

“I’ve come too far to quit,” he said, sharing his new goal of going into hospice nursing.

It will be yet another change, but his years of experience in the medical field will make the transition to a hospice nurse less jarring.

“Whenever I go to a house, my own personal philosophy is that I have to treat that patient, and then, if they’re there, the patient’s family,” he said. “I have to treat the family psychologically. I have two minutes to become their best friend and to have their total confidence. If I can make the patient’s last days more comfortable, then I can make the family’s last days more comfortable, and I feel like I’ve done my job.”

In the meantime, he appreciates the little free time he does have.

“I make myself have free time,” he said, mentioning how he and his wife are making landscaping changes to his house and getting into pottery. “But I know when I’ve done too much. I’ll feel it, and say to myself, ‘Here comes the Aleve.’”

The man who once studied to be an opera singer at the University in the early ’80s, who once worked as a ruthless businessman, who lives for the rush of keeping a gunshot wound from leaking too much blood in the back of the ambulance, has now become a man of few needs.

DesOrmeaux’s only wants are a hospice job, a little free time to spend with his wife and a bottle of Aleve to take off the edge.

It’s not a glamorous wish list, but it’s enough for him.

“I love blood. I love guts. I love it.”

Lately, Audra Jones, who is in the first year of a two-year master’s degree program, has a new outlook on life — love it or leave it.

“Why do something if you don’t love it?” she asks. “Either learn to love it or get the hell out.”

The outspoken 21-year-old speaks from experience. Before taking on fewer shifts as an EMT-Basic for Acadian Ambulance, she “practically ran a Charlie’s Coffee location.” After quitting that job, she found an ad in the paper and began her training in the medical field.

With school and her new job, she was working nearly 80 hours a week.

“I used to sleep maybe two hours,” she said. “I was miserable, working shifts with nothing to enjoy.”

Lately, she’s calmed down, pursuing a master’s degree in forensic anthropology while working 24 hours a week as an EMT.

She’s no longer in it for the money. She works for the thrill, preferring paramedic routes in Prairieville to the transport jobs in Baton Rouge.

“If I work outside of Baton Rouge, I’m going to get emergencies,” she said. “There are the cardiac arrests, the car wrecks where you can do something to really help, gun shot wounds [and] stabbings. That’s what I live for.”

She lives for the sight of blood. In fact she said she only feels the adrenaline when she gets a signal 99 — the call where the patient is dead on sight.

“I might get to see decomposition. It’s like, ‘Oh my God, I did something that applies to what I want to do with my life,’” she said.

For the most part, Jones is a calm EMT; her M.O. is helping the patient. Nothing else.

“I don’t think of patients as people, because it’s a job,” she said. “If you’re a patient, you’re no longer a person to me. You’re an object, and it’s my job to do this to make you better. I’m not going to get emotionally attached to you.”

The only thing that tries her patience is the “B.S. calls.”

“It’s not my time you’re wasting. You called 911 and our ambulance has been assigned and has to transport you,” she said. “A mile down the road, a real emergency could happen, and we can’t respond to that because we have you in the back, and you have a headache.”

Contrary to popular belief, not all of the calls emergency medical professionals receive are plots for future episodes for “C.S.I.” Most of Jones’ shift is spent at the station, writing research papers and waiting for the next call. The hours aren’t ideal either — 6 p.m. to 6 a.m.

But the nightlife is just another aspect that she loves about the job.

“I love the night. You’re sharing it with so few people,” she said. “During the day, everyone’s here. At night, it’s you, your partner, all the crazy people up at night with you, all of the emergency personnel at the hospital, the police, the fire department, it eliminates so much of the population that it feels like a smaller world.”

In a year’s time, she has transformed. She’s one of the few people who have experienced first-hand how short life can be.

She now applies those experiences to her life. So much so that she created a bucket list. She wants to play tennis again. She wants to start a softball league. She wants to skydive.

Why? The reason is simple:

“Life is fleeting,” she said. “Be happy with every moment you have, you could die at any second.”

See more photos from this story.

Tonight marks the opening of Hufft’s second late-night food joint, Borracho’s. The small dive rests outside the doors of Fred’s and serves up tortillas to college students released from the bars in Tiger Land. Behind the counter are two first-time employees — Bryce Novotny, the reserved 18-year-old, and Mario Giorlando, the cook with his hair pinned back like a Samurai.

Hufft rushes in and out of his red-and-white Winnebago-like trailer, checking the contents of each food pan. He weaves between his employees and checks the slow-cooked ingredients for mere seconds before putting the tops back on the small pots.

“I’m paying attention, just keep shooting questions,” the 24-year-old says, wandering over to the web of extension cords underneath his trailer. He follows them to the nearby generator to make certain they are securely plugged in.

It could be a slight touch of obsessive compulsive disorder or that newly-lit nighttime excitement that comes with the job.

While Hufft is busy tending to Borracho’s grand opening, the bass of Drake’s “Best I Ever Had” bumps from the speakers in Bogie’s Bar on East Boyd Drive. The disc jockey for the night occasionally stops the music and demands everyone toast to the bartenders frantically working behind the bar. Girls and guys alike scurry in and out the double-doors, all with their own stories of the night’s conquests.

However, 20 feet outside the bar there’s a different story. Two men, dressed in khaki shorts and reliable white tees work quietly in a fire-engine red trailer. The sound of waffle fries soaking in hot grease fills the trailer as they prepare burgers for the mass of college students leaving the bar.

This is Hufft’s first business – this is Moochie’s.

Inside, Beau Roberts and Brenton Jenkins wipe sweat from their brow as they grill, fry and prepare the ingredients for the food they will serve to those who walk up to their small window ready to order.

“At the beginning [of the shift], it’s really slow,” Jenkins says, peering out the window of the trailer to make sure no customers are standing impatiently. “You sit [inside the trailer] from 10 p.m. to 12:30 a.m., and you’re prepping all the food. Then, after 12:30 [a.m.], business starts picking up. You stop looking at your clock, and the rush doesn’t stop until 2:45 a.m.”

Roberts and Jenkins are a rag-tag fast-food duo. Roberts, wrangles customers over while Jenkins, waits to flip burgers and unleash fries from their greasy bath.

And what infamous fries they have. Moochie’s specializes in waffle cheese fries, topped with mounds of grated American and cheddar cheese and finished with a touch of Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning.

Jake Goldenburg, a 25-year-old Marine Corps veteran and returning University student, said the food reminds him of Christmas morning.

“It is homemade hotness,” Goldenburg said.

Of all the menu items, Goldenburg loves the brisket.

“It’s an absolute home run from outer space. It’s sweet, savory and spicy,” he said with a mouthful of food. “They’ve got it going on, and I’m not ashamed to say I eat there several times a week when I’m in Baton Rouge.”

Danny Dehon, a 24-year-old biological engineering major, said he also suffers from this habit.

“I would eat at Moochie’s every day except Sunday,” he said.

Those comments fuel what Sneakysunday.com named one of Baton Rouge’s “Best Late Night Food Places.” Though the reception to the food and service offered by Moochie’s hasn’t always been great, Hufft thinks customers enjoy what he’s providing.

“Some people treat you bad, of course,” he said. “They’re all drunk, most of the time. I wouldn’t expect everybody to have a smiling face.”

Drunk or sober, drivers can blink and miss Moochie’s prime location. The trailer is no bigger than the kitchen in a one-bedroom apartment. Inside, a grill and two mini-fryers line one wall with the vegetable and toppings counter on the other side. If you stare closely at the register, you’ll see a green-lettered tagline run across its two-inch screen.

“A little taste of heaven without the price of dying,” it reads. The idea for that holy combination of fresh hamburgers and waffle fries in the early morning came from Hufft’s New Orleans’ state of mind.

“In New Orleans, the routine is to go out, get drunk and then you want a late-night snack,” Hufft said. “You can go anywhere and get late night food. While I was in school at LSU, the only option was McDonald’s.”

Hufft saw a niche and carved his late-night food business with minimal expenses.

Two years ago — when he was still in college — he didn’t have the finances to run a large restaurant. The only way he thought he could mix the restaurant business and being his own boss was by opening up his own trailer.

Though happy to become an entrepreneur, Hufft does feel the wear of the late-night job. The feelings are mutual for Novotny, who said the hardest part of working a night job is the next day.

“Tonight will be rough,” he said. “I have a math class at 7:30 a.m.”

Jenkins echoed those sleepy feelings.

“It gets rough trying to pull school and then work until three in the morning.” The fourth-year, environmental engineering major who said at first he had trouble getting in the swing of the schedule. “Pretty soon, after being on the job a couple of weeks and coming home early in the morning, after a shift, I end up ditching homework for some rest.”

While Hufft’s employees feel the fatigue that accompanies lack of sleep and working nights, Hufft rides the adrenaline rush at Borracho’s as he waits for customers to knock the window.

“I can’t see this not doing well,” he says, with his arms crossed, the cigarette still unlit. “There are four bars in the vicinity [of Borracho’s] as opposed to one with Moochie’s.”

But by 10:30 p.m., Hufft’s confidence may be rattled by the lack of business. Only a doorman from Fred’s has come up to the window to ask if Borracho’s is open. Behind the trailer, Hufft has a taste-tester — Danny Dehon — to make sure everything tastes accordingly.

Dehon shoves a beef-filled tortilla in his mouth with his hand cupped underneath to catch any crumbs. Giorlando, the cook, stands in the doorway — spatchula in hand — waiting for Dehon’s response.

“It’s good,” Dehon moans with a mouthful of Mexican food. “As always.”

Photographs by Maggie Bowles

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the first in a series of stories that takes a look at night jobs around the University. If you have an idea or work a night job you would like the Legacy to write about, send your suggestion to editor@lsulegacymag.com.