Five dollars for a bus ride. Five dollars. Last year it was only $1.50. Some of you may know that I am talking about Jazz Fest. They call it the Zydeco Express. What a load of …. A simple ride from the fest to the French Quarter — ten minutes — five bucks.

That left a bad taste in my mouth. Jazz Fest and those around it need to make sure that it doesn’t turn into the drain-every-penny-possible-from-tourists fest. Some think it is already there.

At the fest itself, though, I have no complaints (except, perhaps, for four dollar cans of MGD). The music was great (Blanchard, Santana, Steel Pulse, my favorites); the food as always is a huge part of the fest. If you have never had a cochon d’lait po’boy, you must.

The trick, by the way, is to bring in some vodka in a water bottle — they will never check — or to save your drinking for later. Perhaps those folks around the Steel Pulse stage had another trick, judging by the clouds they created.

But the fest is over, and this week’s tune, behind the cut, is from a man who was not at the fest. Has he ever been? Tom Waits, “I Wish I was in New Orleans”: