New Orleans…Reflections
New Orleans was actually a really wonderful experience. I got to see my college roommates, meet a ton of new people, live a life that wasn’t all that different from college (except for the manual labor) and explore the city.
The second day on the job didn’t seem to be that much different from my first day. I was responsible for placing gooey stuff on the walls as well as filling up spaces in between windows with this yellow foamy stuff. When I wasn’t doing those two tasks, I was cleaning tools, or working on other miscellaneous jobs, like covering the floor with paper, measuring the size of windows for windowpane, or eating. The weather was miserably hot and humid and I must have drank around 10 bottles of water throughout the day. The second day seemed to go by much faster than the first since things weren’t completely novel, so I was fitting into a routine on my second day on the job and things seemed to be going smoothly. I actually think I was being somewhat helpful in the construction of the house, but everyone else working with me seemed to have found a role in the house building project and sometimes I felt that even though I was being helpful I was in the way, and I couldn’t do anything really useful because I lacked proper training in some tasks.
The third day I switched houses and went to work with Joe on interior furnishings. I wanted to see another neighborhood as well as seeing what houses looked like in their final stages. I think I disappointed my other roommate by abandoning the other house, but I was just interested in seeing a different part of New Orleans as well as seeing what everyone was working towards. I showed up at the house and was amazed how much better the neighborhood we were working in was compared to the other house’s neighborhood. This neighborhood actually had trees and front yards with green grass and looked as if there was some privacy for each house/family. The first neighborhood I worked in had houses that were located so close to each other that you seemed to be living with your neighbor. It was really interesting to see how different classes lived in the US, and I felt that if I didn’t leave New Orleans a master carpenter, I had a different understanding of city makeup’s in the US.
The people in our house were so wonderful to me and I felt as if in my few days in New Orleans I made a few friends and I felt wanted and appreciated by entire gang. It was great seeing Ira and Joe while I was there, and being able to go out at night with people my age, whether we were going to a house party or out to ice cream. It was so much fun being surrounded by young people and I felt that I was able to experience a life that hadn’t always been available to me since graduation. I was able to make people laugh, squirm and accept me for the crazy guy I apparently am. I had a ton of fun with the people, and was upset to leave when I had to, but I only had a couple weeks remaining until I had to be back in NY, and I had to eventually make it back to the East Coast.
O, a few other things…When I was driving around downtown New Orleans Ira, Joe and I stopped by a sandwich shack to get a “Poboy.” I honestly thought they wanted to take me to a diner or some type of restaurant establishment to get one of these traditional New Orleans sandwiches. I was very shocked when I parked my car to what seemed like a drug dealer’s house and walked in to see that we were in a very low class market that was run by an Asian family who seemed to “master” in making this New Orleans delicatessen known as the “Poboy.” I was instructed by my roommates to get a shrimp Poboy because that was the most traditional sandwich so I hesitantly ordered what I imagined to be the last sandwich I would ever consume in my life. When I got the sandwich I was relieved to see the shrimp fried and the sandwich was very large, and extremely cheap and I really enjoyed my Poboy experience. I still don’t know why we had to get it from one of the poorest markets I’d ever been in.
One evening we went into downtown New Orleans I was determined to find the hotel my mother met my father which led to their eventual marriage not too long after. I called my mom and tried to get any details she could remember and was told to look for a Marriott on Canal Street. My roommates knew exactly where Canal Street was located and lo and behold, a Marriott sign hung overhead. I felt this really odd sensation as if I felt that I was entering this parallel universe where I thought that I was back in 1984 and I’d be able to re-live the moment which led to my parent’s marriage. I knew this wasn’t actually happening, but I tried to imagine what it must have been like and entered the hotel with high hopes that I’d be able to see where my parents actually met.
Unfortunately there were serious renovations being done to the Marriott and I couldn’t find any restaurant in the lobby nor the first floor and my spirits immediately sunk. How could they destroy the restaurant where my parents met??!!! I thought this was a terrible omen for some ridiculously stupid reason and after a few frantic minutes of asking hotel employees where a sports bar was located in the hotel and being told there wasn’t one, I left the hotel in low spirits. Maybe I was a mistake? Maybe I’m not actually existing? Maybe I’m just a figment of everyone’s imagination and my parents never actually met in New Orleans?!
As I left the hotel I gained some more hope as I saw another hotel across the street called the JW Marriott. It didn’t look as if the same Marriott owned this joint because there weren’t any glitzy lights or colors and the size of the building was about a quarter of the size of the hotel I had just wandered around. I entered with my friends with the faintest hope of finding a bar, and before going ten feet I saw “Shula’s” bar.
This had to be the place my parents met. It was definitely a bar, and Don Shula was one of the most famous coaches in professional football history, I believe he coached the Dolphins for years, and for some weird reason I felt great again. Maybe I wasn’t a mistake! Maybe I had a purpose, and this bar hadn’t been destroyed for a reason. I stopped thinking these absurdities before having my picture, actually a few pictures taken of me outside the bar. This bar was responsible for my existence…
Unfortunately I couldn’t find any young good looking blonde hair girls as my father must have met 22 years ago. I wasn’t actually looking for anyone, but I was interested in what type of crowd hung out at the bar. All I could see were gray-haired men sitting around a bar and I definitely didn’t see any women in a 25 year age range from me. I ordered what I thought my dad may have ordered that night…Johnnie Walker Black and Water, and I sat there waiting to see if anyone would enter. Maybe my future wife would meet me that evening? I didn’t know.
After 10 minutes of talking with Joe/Ira I said we should get a picture of me at the corner table where my mom said my dad and her went after the bar. I brought my drink over to the table and sat with Joe and had Ira shoot off a few pics which actually came out pretty good. It was such a bizarre scene, but I loved every second of it, and left the bar thinking, I’m nuts.
Another few memories I have of New Orleans is when I was determined to get to the Hard Rock Cafe to get my mom a pin and myself a t-shirt. The weather was horrendous as rain pellets the size of lemons hit the ground nonstop for hours straight. I didn’t have time to wait around so I sprinted through the rain for blocks to make it to the HRC, and decided that it’d be safer to take a cab back to the parking lot afterwards b/c I was already drenched and felt miserable, but I did have the shirt and pin!
One other interesting story occurred when we were walking around Bourbon Street and we entered a bar with live music. Joe, Ira and I had spent some time in this other music bar, chilling on the wall, but leaving after 30 mins to see what else was going on. We went to some other bar and sat down. I was dead tired and was about to pass out, and wanted to leave so we left, and a few seconds after we left the bar I heard “Stu!” yelled out. I turned around and saw that Joe and Ira had stopped 15 feet behind me and had these three women surrounding them. I found this somewhat appealing but wasn’t sure what was going on, so I walked back to them and was told by what I assumed to be the ring leader that we shouldn’t leave the bar. I laughed to myself and probably aloud when I heard this because this woman was definitely close to twice my age, and she was the youngest of the three, as I explained to her that we weren’t looking for that type of fun, (or at least I wasn’t), and after some awkward jokes the three of us made our way back to my car. I guess it was nice to get “hit on” by some “real” women, but no thanks.
Will I ever go back to New Orleans? I have no idea, just as I have no idea if I’ll ever go back to any of the cities I’ve stopped by on this road trip. That’s the weird/fascinating part of my journey so far. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back, because there’s so much for me to do and so much to see, and I have no idea what direction my life will take me that I have to assume that I may never set foot in any of these places again, unless of course I try to Brysonian trip and write a book 20 years from now about my travels through Europe/Asia/US after re-experiencing those same trips when I’m 40, and hopefully well-situated. I don’t know…
O yea..final thought. One of the girls at the house in New Orleans found me hilarious. She really found me genuinely strange and hilarious at the same time. I’ve never made anyone laugh so hard and so often and so genuinely in quite some time if ever in my life, and it really brought a smile to my face and a warm feeling to my heart that I can have that type of effect on someone else and know that there are people out there who think that I’m not that bad of a guy. (I think the Stu novelty wore off a few days later, but I still really enjoyed making someone else enjoy my company that much.)
I was sad when I left New Orleans because I didn’t know when I’d see Ira and Joe again. In the fall Joe was heading to Japan for the year, and I had no idea where Ira was heading after New Orleans. I guess I just assume with most people it’s never good bye forever, b/c I assume I’ll randomly bump into them some time in the future. Sometimes I wish I could use that approach with significant others. The drive to Florida was no joke, and I had to
Tags: Summer 2007 Road Trip, Travel
