SOLTuesday: Not a Christmas Story

            This is not a Christmas slice. I traveled this past weekend, which only was only tangentially because of Christmas. My daughter, the librarian, had a four-day weekend, having last Saturday off and Christmas Eve as well. She decided she wanted to go with her husband to New Orleans, where she had never been, and asked me if I wanted to join them. Why not? I had only been there once before, last winter, for five days, and loved it.

            So we reserved rooms at the same B&B I had stayed at, Monrose Row (which I strongly recommend; Cindy, the proprietor, makes fantastic breakfasts). I made a dinner reservation for Sunday night at Commodore’s Palace, supposedly the best restaurant in New Orleans. Christie made reservations for dinner at a Brazilian steakhouse, one of those places where they bring large skewers of many different kinds of meat to your table, and slice off whatever you want. I made reservations for a walking tour of the French Quarter, and Christie made reservations for a tour of a local whiskey distillery.

           But that isn’t the story I was going to tell. That happened today, as we were getting on the plane to come back home. Christie and her husband were sitting some rows ahead of me, so they got on first. Then I boarded and was busy putting my bag in the overhead and tucking my other bag under the seat when there was a tap on my shoulder. I thought someone wanted to get past, but when I looked up, I recognized the young man. He was a colleague from the magazine where I do free-lance work. I knew his family was in New Orleans, but what a coincidence that he was on the same flight returning to New York. And he was sitting right behind me as well.
            So we chatted about the city and our holidays, and we shared a taxi into Manhattan from the airport. It all rounded out a very lovely four-day holiday weekend.

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SOLSC: Travel Day

            Today was a travel day. I packed almost everything yesterday, so this morning it was just whatever was left over that I had to use in the morning. Yet another wonderful breakfast from Cindy, my B&B hostess (Monrose Row, two blocks outside of the French Quarter in New Orleans): fennel and dill scones, gluten-free oatmeal muffins, and granola, yogurt, and fruit.

            Cindy called a cab driver she knew, who grew up on Long Island, but has been living in New Orleans for 30 years. He served up his opinion that since Katrina, too many of the original residents left because they couldn’t afford to rebuild, and the new residents want to “fix” New Orleans by turning it into a generic American city. What he described sounded a lot like what American aid workers do when they go to a developing countries with their own ideas of how those countries should develop, rather than find out what the people living there want for their own development. I hope he’s wrong about New Orleans.

            The flight from New Orleans to Atlanta was on time and uneventful. The Atlanta airport is huge, with little help in the way of signs. I was in terminal B and had to get to terminal T—it was a very long walk to the train, and two stops on the train. Once at the gate, I learned the flight was delayed; the plane was there, but LaGuardia Airport was delaying flights because there were so many planes they were trying to clear out. Once on the plane, the pilot told us that turbulent weather, not in New York but around New  York had caused a delay in planes getting in to  the airport.

            We left about 45 minutes late and got into LaGuardia about half an hour late. Not too bad. It’s cold, but a brisk cold, not a beastly cold. I’m glad to be home. I’m unpacked. And to bed very soon.

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I’m participating in the 11th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 5 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!

SOLSC: Runners on the Streetcar

            Today I set out to ride the St. Charles streetcar from one end to the other. First, I had to get to the Canal Street end, at the edge of the French Quarter. I thought that the Rampart streetcar would do it, but it turned north, the wrong direction. I had to get off and take the streetcar going the opposite way. As soon as I got on, I was offered a seat by a young woman in a yellow T-shirt with a message about the Humana Rock & Roll 10K race.

            “Did you run the race?” I asked. I knew about it because the weekend event had made it a bit difficult for me to find a place to stay for my week here.

           “Yes,” she said, and the woman sitting next to me weighed in that their drunk friend over there, pointing to a woman in a seat across the aisle, “she’s the oldest one of us and she's the fastest of all of us.”

            We all got on to the St. Charles streetcar at Canal Street and continued on our way. There were six women in their running club, from St. Louis, and they ‘d all come to run in the Rock and Roll 10K. Laura, who I sat next to, explained that the parents of Meghan, another of the young women, live in New Orleans and they were all staying with them. (The parents live in the Garden District, an area that includes mansions in many architectural styles. I have no idea what sort of home Meghan’s parents have.)

            Laura waved at everyone outside the streetcar who would wave back. Meanwhile, she told me about Heather, who was watching a livestream of her daughter’s soccer game this afternoon; Sarah; and Marie, the fastest. Marie will be 50 in a few months, and she’s planning to run a race in Hawaii for her birthday.

            Meanwhile, Laura became a bit antsy about when they were going to get to their destination; she desperately needed a toilet. And when she saw a (very tastefully designed) McDonald’s, she decided it was time to get off. So the running club from St. Louis all departed. 

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I’m participating in the 11th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 4 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!

SOLSC: Phone Lost, but Not Lost

Just over a year ago while on a tour of Cuba with my daughter, I lost my new smartphone, which I’d had for only a few months. That was a Slice for December 20, 2016

            Today I am traveling again, this time on my own, and in New Orleans. I had finished going through a very moving exhibit about Hurricane Katrina. At the opening of the exhibit is a battered piano tilted at a 45-degree angle. The piano was Fats Domino’s and was found in his house on Marais Street. The house had been totally destroyed during flooding from the hurricane, and the piano ruined. For a while, people thought Fats had died as well, but he had evacuated to a relative’s. The piano was donated to the museum, and it’s set up in the position it was found.

            Of course, I wanted a photo. I reached into my purse for the phone. No phone. My pockets? No phone. Panic. I tried to search through my purse more thoroughly, but also asked at the reception desk if I had left my phone there. I hadn’t, but the receptionist suggested the call-my-phone feature, and after I gave her my number, she dialed it. I didn’t hear a ring from any of my belongings, so while she continued to listen to her phone ring, I rushed through the exhibit, hoping to hear my phone’s blues ringtone. Silence.

            Back at the reception desk, I suddenly heard ringing from my backpack. There was the phone. Why hadn’t it rung in the first place? My phone seems to put itself on vibrate on its own sometimes. Devices have minds of their own.

            This trip the phone was found. But in my euphoria on finding it, I forgot to take a picture of Fats’ piano. So no  photo here. I’m sorry. 

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I’m participating in the 11th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 1 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!