New Orleans

The first time I went to New Orleans was Thanksgiving weekend back in '90 or '91 (I'm terrible with dates). I was with my second husband, henceforth known as H2, when we decided to plan a trip there. This was pre-internet, at least for us, so I called the New Orleans COC and asked for information. They sent me a nice 4" X 8 1/2" glossy booklet with pull-out maps. H2 was rather miserly, although he made good money, so we were looking for something very inexpensive. We settled on The Old World Inn, which had a nice write-up. It was located in the Garden District, on Prytania, which is only one block south of St. Charles between Thalia and Erato. Neither of us had been to NO, obviously, so we were very excited. Well the inn was basically a large OLD house. Our room was basically a very small bedroom with a bricked over fireplace, a tiny closet, a tiny bathroom, a bed, and a chair. There was a locked door just to the right of our entry door that we discovered was the "dividing wall" between our room and the next room's bathroom. So basically we heard every single sound that the two male Dutch travelers made while in their bathroom. Sometimes it was really gross (I guess spicy food did not agree with the Dutch) and sometimes we just tried not to laugh out loud. The first day we took the trolley (running on St. Charles) into the French Quarter, but for some insane reason, the next day, we decided to walk. DO NOT attempt walking from the Garden District to the French Quarter unless you are one of those athletes that likes pain. I don't remember how we got back that day. It was late afternoon and H2 had to take a nap, so I took my ice chest down to the common room to sit and drink beer. Some guy came down and tinkled with the piano. I offered him a beer and found out he was from Essex. It took me forever to understand his accent. We talked for several hours before H2 came down and joined us. Billy (the Brit) was so entertaining (and was there alone) that we asked him to join us for the evening. This time we took a cab into the Quarter. We also spent the next evening with him. We kept in touch for years thru Christmas cards. That's about all I remember from the first trip.

Trip 2
My second venture was a trip with my Dad. We loved to travel together. Dad lived in N.C., I was in Texas so naturally we missed each other. We were both party animals. Our trip was planned around Halloween of 95. About 2 weeks before our trip Dad calls to say he broke his ankle. He was roller-skating with a girl younger than me. He insists he still wants to go. I'm greeted at the airport by my Dad in a wheelchair holding his crutches. An airport person is pushing him around. Okay remember the Old World Inn? This time we have a suite with a full living room, dining room and kitchen and private courtyard. Dad gives the bellman $100 to get us a couple of cases of beer and some snacks. It was the St. Marie on Toulouse. It was on the corner of Bourbon St. and our suite was ON Bourbon Street. Every morning the street cleaner woke me up. A very loud machine. I slept on the couch. That window was on Bourbon. Dad was nestled cozily far away in the bedroom. We never went very far because of Dad's crutches. Halloween night, he put out an extra effort because the crowd was crazy. My costume was Tonya Harding from the famous broken shoelaces event. I was quite thin because I had just stopped dancing that year after 4 straight years of ballet, modern, jazz, and dance aerobics. I wore a little red outfit with skating tights and some rollerskates without wheels. I pulled my hair straight back into a ponytail (it was lighter red then) and the topper was using mascara to make fake roots on my hairline. It was practically a cheap site gag with Dad being on crutches. You can imagine the comments. Dad used to love to tell people that he heard someone walk by and say, "That IS Tonya Harding!" I didn't hear it but it wouldn't surprise me. It WAS New Orleans. Oh, and by this time I was a big Anne Rice fan. One afternoon we found a cab driver that drove us to the house that was on the cover of The Witching Hour. That was cool.

Trip 3
Finally my significant other at the time (now my husband) was talked into going to New Orleans. That was Thanksgiving '97. Being the big Anne Rice fan I just had to stay at Place de Armes which is mentioned in Interview With a Vampire. It's really nice and I would recommend it to anyone. It's on St. Ann which runs to the west of Jackson Square and is only a half block north. Also, as you step out of Place de Armes and turn right on St. Ann, there is a grocery store just up the street. On this trip, the gambling riverboats had started up, so we went there most nights. One night we went to that really upscale strip bar on Bourbon Street. We kinda wanted to hurry back to our hotel after a bit (now why was that?) and were feeling very good. Although I'm terrified of horses, I was in a great mood and reached out to pet one of those carriage horses and it chomped me on my right forearm, just above the elbow. I didn't let it break my mood at the time although it freaked me out. I was wearing a Levi's denim jacket, thank goodness, but for a bout a week I could barely move my fingers and I had GIANT bruises on my arm. My Sweetie (henceforth known as MS) still teases me about that.

Trip 4
This one is weird because I have very little memory of it. I know why now. I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress and did not know it. My Dad died in October 98 at his retirement party and I witnessed the whole "CLEAR" thing they do with the paddles and all. I guess I thought New Orleans would soothe my soul. We went in March '99 just after Mardi Gras. The good part about that is the decorations are still everywhere but EVERYTHING is on sale. I could probably figure out where we stayed if I searched the net. It was nice and large. Maybe on the corner of Bourbon and Dumaine. I think they even had room service which is rare in NO. It had a large inner courtyard. About the only thing I remember clearly is there was a constant light drizzle, so we just bought hats and trucked along. I think Harrahs was there now also, so I'm sure we gambled a bit. Yes it was. I remember they used to do a parade thru the casino. It was wild and they would throw beads.

Trip 5
Okay this one sucked. Not because of New Orleans. NO was my saving grace. It was my brother. We had gone through a lot together because of losing our Dad. I thought it would be a great time to reconnect. He lives in N.C., I'll call him Jack (short for Jackass). So we meet up in NO in April 2000. It started out fine. The very first morning he starts asking when I'll be ready. Remember that I have this anxiety disorder and do not "go about" until I've had lots of beer. So I'm telling him to go out for a bit and come back. Oh no, he has to wait for me. At this point I had had several trips with Lolo who is a girl in her 20's and had no problem wandering about on her own. So for a tall man, that's older than me to not be able to go out on his own seemed ridiculous. After watching him pace about over and over I finally got moving. We were at the Royal Sonesta which has a whole block (Bourbon, Conti, Royal and Bienville are the streets around the hotel). Very nice, but no room service. I get ready, the afternoon starts out fine. We stop in at one of the nicer places - actual glasses instead of plastic cups. I see him write on a matchbook and hand it to the bartender. What was that? He tells me he's looking for coke. I was furious! I finish my beer and walk out and he tells me he's going to "a place" to get some coke and I was like, "Well I'm gonna sit in this bar and drink." It was one of those bars with the wall of frozen drinks swishing around. So he comes back after about 20 minutes and I'm madder than a badger in an alligator pit. His search had fallen through so we decide to drop the subject and try to have fun. We go to this really cool bar on Bourbon (the one with 3 for one) and sit, people watch, and even dance. He was was always a great dance partner. So we go to Harrah's. After like 20 minutes he says he's not into gambling, so he leaves (OH now he can do something by himself). About 2 hours later, I'm thinking I'll go back to the room, take a nap and hit Bourbon Street later. I let myself into the room (which is in my name, by the way) and he freaks out. "What are you doing here?" Uhm, I was gonna take a nap. "You have to leave, I'm having a hooker come here." I asked "How the hell did you meet a hooker?" He says, "I found her in the yellow pages." Okay now my adrenaline is up and I'm not so sleepy. I catch a cab and go back to Harrah's. The next day, I'm still trying to just have fun. We go back to the cool 3 for 1 bar that afternoon. After a bit, he leaves our table and walks to the end of the bar near the door to talk to some shady looking guys. After 20 minutes or so, I walk over there. One guy has like 4 teeth. Jack says he's going with them to get some coke. I'm like "Are you INSANE!!??!!" He says meet me back here at 6:00. I go to Harrah's, start running a little late, get back to that bar at about 6:10. I sat there from 6:10 until about 7:30 thinking the whole time that he was dead and that his kids would never forgive me. I was drinking like a madwoman because I was so tense, so I finally decided I had to go back to the room and nap. I walk into the room and they are smoking pot, cutting lines and drinking MY beer. Yeah, with that adrenaline burst, the whole nap desire thing goes right out the window. I had to pee and walked right thru the room with my purse and my beer to the bathroom. So I'm in the bathroom, just furious, thinking "Okay all these drugs are in this room in my name. It's my fucking room and I have to take my purse and beer with me into the bathroom!!??!!" I walked out and said "I'm going to Harrah's. Don't drink my beer." So about 3 or 4 in the morning I let myself into the room. I shake my ice chest and it feels very heavy. For some reason I look in. It is full. Of ice. I went berserk. My idiot loser brother was snoring away on his bed and I just started screeching at him. He mumbles, "I'll go get your beer right now, SNOOORE." So I go back out on the street in a rage. Hail a cab and tell him to take me to that grocery store on St. Ann. He thought I was a local. That was funny. I get into the store and my brain goes all TIVO on me. Our first day here, brother was an ass at one bar about what beers they offered. I played the whole conversation back (funny what rage can do) and I remembered he said "I'd rather drink piss than drink Coors Light." So I bought Coors Light even though it's not my beer, hopped back into my cab, went back to my room and slept like a lamb. It was our last night. His plane left about 3 hours before mine (Nelson says Ha-Hah). I heard him get up and get ready and acted like I was asleep the whole time. When he opened the door to leave, I pretended to groggily wake up. We said goodbye.

Trip 6
This one was just goofy as hell. Lolo and I had decided to make a tradition of going to Vegas in honor of my Dad. We would call it his Deathaversary. If that freaks you out, you obviously didn't know my Dad. I met her at my Dad's. She had known him since she was 16. She lived about 3 houses down (actually, up, hill-wise). She was even our driver to my Dad's retirement party. We really didn't know each other but had a connection of some sort. When we got to the retirement party, and I'll never understand this, we found out our dining room was non-smoking. In North Carolina. So she and I kept going to the bar to smoke together. Well the rest of the night was a blur what with my Dad dying and all. I want to save that for another entry so I'll move along. Lolo was one of the first to call and ask if I needed anything. She brought me food. She took me to the mall to get my clove cigarettes (yeah we can laugh now. what was I thinking?) She was very helpful. Also on a later trip back to do the estate sale she came to my hotel to visit. I'll move along. I called her probably July of '99 and basically said, "Hi this is geewits, Jack Senior's daughter, (although I must make it clear that my dad was not a jackass, but since I named my brother that and he was named for him yadayadayada) Okay so Lolo was like "Yeah?" I said, "I've been thinking and I think I'm gonna lose it on my Dad's deathaversary so how about we go to Vegas together. I think He'd like that." Well instead of being freaked out she was all for it. We had a killer time -> for another post. Anyway, what happened was, on this second Vegas trip she brought her friend from NC. Her friend was seriously addicted to her boyfriend. I'll call her Beth. Beth's boyfriend's name is Jessie. So every 20 minutes when Beth would feel the need to call Jessie, Lolo and I would sing "Jessie's Girl" If you don't know this song, you are lucky. Well what happened then was Beth couldn't stand being away from Jessie. I wasn't really paying attention until Lolo showed up at the Nile Bar at the Luxor to meet me and was freaking out because Beth had left. I'm thinking that was a Wednesday and we were leaving on Friday, but don't quote me. Well Lolo was seriously pissed. So whatever day we left Vegas, we were pulling into the airport in our cab and I said, "When do you have to be back at work?" She said, "Monday." I said "Do you want to go to New Orleans?" Lolo was VERY hungover. She was like "Whut? I said, "let's go to New Orleans!" The cab driver cracked up. Lolo said to the cab driver, "You're laughing but you don't know her." Then she said okay. I was pretty buzzed so I don't remember all the dealing with the airlines. It wasn't that bad. The bad part was trying to get a hotel room. I was in an airport bar so all I had was a cell phone. I made about 9000 calls. I finally got us some place that I couldn't tell you today where it was except it was next to a raised highway that emergency vehicles really like to use. And when I say next to the highway, I mean it was like 20 feet from our window. If we were not buzz cats, we would have not gotten any sleep at all. So we wake up in the world's loudest hotel room and realize all our clothes are dirty. I don't remember this part, but we ended up at a laundromat - except they do it right on Bourbon Street. Maybe our cab driver knew. I don't remember. So we drop our clothes and walk down Bourbon and it's like a ghost town. This is like 1:30 on a Thursday afternoon. Okay this part cracks me up. We go to a restaurant on a second floor balcony on Bourbon St. I keep saying, "Seriously, by 8:00 tonight this street will be insane." She so obviously did not believe me. hee heee. Man I got to tease her about that forever. We picked up our clothes and headed back to Hell Hotel but we were so happy to have our clean clothes. For some insane reason, I decided we needed to do a Riverboat ride. We made reservations and then of course partied like loons the night before. We actually made it there and all I wanted was more alcohol. She's not like me and wanted food. The boat started up and we spent about an hour talking about what our hangovers felt like. Maybe less. I finally convinced her that alcohol would make her feel better. She got some food and a beer. I got beer. We were sitting right on the rail of the boat and we both love water. At some point I noticed these Japanese men were giggling their butts off. I watched and realized they were taking turns sitting at the table next to us and the other ones would take pictures. Basically, they were setting up the shot so that it looked like each guy was sitting between us. I thought it was hilarious and told Lolo and for some reason it made her crazy mad. She ran them off. That's about all I remember from that trip but it was fun.

I have 2 more New Orleans trips but I have run out of steam. So I will do part 2 later. I'm so heartbroken over the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, but it's nice to remember the good times.