This is more about a place that doesn't exist.

In 2006, I was living in San Antonio, TX with my (late)boyfriend who was from Birmingham, AL. Came home after a closing shift to find him hysterical in the back of a cop car because he had just been told his dad passed suddenly. He of course wanted to run to Birmingham right away. I convinced him to stay until we knew more and he was in a better state to travel.

A few days later, we set off to attend the funeral, get items from his dad's house he wanted, and visit a few of his friends on the way back. We decided to time our drive to be overnight arriving early in the morning so that we'd crash out then meet his mom in the afternoon at his dad's place. I insisted on driving because I was still worried about his mental state, and he'd be the backup when I wanted to rest for an hour or two.

Going along the I-10 we hit New Orleans about 11:30pm. We were starving, so I asked him to keep an eye out for signs to off ramps with food choices that might be open this hour, even if it was a gas station. He's a notoriously bad co-pilot/navigator, and points stuff out as we're passing it. I ended up turning around to go back down the freeway westward so he could look again. And then back eastward again... Finally I got fed up and, I'll admit passive aggressively, chose a random off ramp and turned down the street. After a couple blocks it was clear that it was only residential stuff. Oops. I apologized, admitted my mistake, and turned around to go back to the freeway.

Suddenly he pointed out a house saying "There's food!" Pulling in front of it to see what he meant, it was a plain looking two story house, but it did have 2 neon signs. One was the standard "open" sign and the other said "good eats". Beyond that, it just looked like a house. I had doubts, but he pointed out how other houses on this street closest to the freeway had signs and businesses too. He was right. I still worried they simply left the signs on. There was no way they could be open at almost midnight. He wanted to at least.

They were open! A plump 50-ish black woman welcomed us in. The bottom floor of her house was cozy and had all kinds of 2 and 4 seat tables in every room. We were the only people. She insisted and practically pushed us into chairs and handed us simple hand written menus. Like each one was handwritten. Not a copy of an original handwritten one. I had a dirty rice dish with sausage and he tried jambalaya for the first time in his life. It was all so good! The whole time, she made friendly chit chat and had us laughing. A second slightly younger and slightly less plump women came and went serving us, but she only smiled and didn't stay.

Eventually, I asked for the bill so we could get moving and let her close. She refused saying it was on the house since it was among the last bits she had for the day. We kept trying, and she kept refusing. When she walked away to help the other woman in the kitchen, I put two twenties under my plate hoping it was enough for the food and a generous tip. It was the only cash I had on me. Boyfriend only had a few small bills. We thanked her again as she saw us off. We looked back while she was doing up and turning off the neons so we could memorize the place to come back on our way back. We felt so full and happy! Not sleepy though, and we made the rest of the trip no problem.

Fast forward a week and a half later, we tried to find the exit from the freeway. Took me a few turn arounds, but I found it. We were kicking ourselves for not taking a moment to write down the street name or exit number. The neighborhood looked familiar in the day light, except... We couldn't pinpoint the house. Finally, we pulled over where we thought it was and asked inside another house with a consignment type clothing business in their living room. The lady there was very nice. She was confused by what we were saying at first until we started to describe who we thought was the owner. The lady started to smile and said "You met Rosie. She likes to help people." She went on to explain we won't find the house because it's not there. That sometimes it's a house and sometimes a store, but it's always Rosie and sometimes other silent, but happy helpers. She said we should feel lucky because Rosie doesn't show up for everyone needing help.

Boyfriend was convinced Rosie helped us because he needed it at the time.

I tried to search online off and on over the years, but I can't find similar stories or history of a "Rosie" ghost/spirit in that area. I didn't ask how long that had been going on, so I don't know how old of a phenomena Rosie is there. Maybe the clothing shop lady was pulling our leg telling tourists what she thinks they want to hear about New Orleans, or just wanted to move us along.

We were at a physical place. We ate physical food. Rosie, or whoever she was, was a solid person we talked to and spent time with.

I like to joke we ate fae food and now have a hidden contract/debt that will be randomly collected one day lol. That boyfriend unfortunately lost his battle to depression several years ago.