Lagniappe is gone now, but his memory lives on.
How odd...I can think of several places where if he did that someone would mysteriously beat the stuffing's out of him. But then they'd do that anyway even if he didn't flip them off...
The first words ever spoken to me in New York City were by a wino after I climbed off a bus at the Port Authority station. He looked at me and said "You're a dirty son of a bitch." I began to step over and teach him manners, but my buddies pulled me off of him.
Ah yes, welcome to NOLA... sigh
And all this time i've been doing it for free.