New Orleans
When I was five years old my dad really wanted to drive across the country on the new interstates, as did many other dads of the time.
So we started to go on road trips. Look here.
But what my dad actually wanted to do was just drive and eat. First, breakfast, drive for hours, my parents would debate where to have lunch, drive until sunset, they would debate about a motel, then debate about places to have dinner. We rarely stopped to see the sights, despite my requests.
This is a story of my penultimate trip with my dad. I was 20. He intended this trip to be a drive around the perimeter of North America.
We went all the way down Baja, put the car on a ferry to cross the Sea of Cortez, then we went to Mexico City. There we stopped for two weeks. He had a favorite hotel, and favorite restaurants. The most amusing meal was every morning, often just my dad and me, we would have huevos rancheros at Denny’s (!), because that dish was considered peasant food, and we couldn’t find it anywhere else in the city.
Then we went on to Veracruz. I don’t think we were able to get too far into Yucatan because there were political troubles up ahead, as well as a hurricane coming toward us. I think we went down as far as the roads were protected, but we wound up going back to Veracruz, at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico.
A story of a hurricane here.
Eventually we found ourselves in New Orleans. But in New Orleans I said, Let's stop and see something. They wanted to drive on. I announced that if they did not want to stop for a day in New Orleans, they could go on and I would just find my own way back home. They didn't want to stay. Thank you very much, said I, and walked out of the motel. What an insufferable brat.
I had a wonderful day exploring New Orleans, mainly the French Quarter. After midnight I found myself at the Preservation Hall Band performance place. (Preservation Hall?) The audience sat in a bleacher type area. I sat at the back, and to one side. Wonderful music until three in the morning.
As is my way, I let the crowd clear out before I left. One of the musicians called me over and asked me what I was doing there and I said, I love your music. He said, You weren’t keeping time like a white boy. I said, Who are you calling white boy? I don’t know what I am, but I ain’t white. All the musicians laughed. They wanted to know what musical instruments I play, I told them I play a couple of things badly but mostly I play the radio. Another good laugh. One of the older guys said, Would you like breakfast, I said, Sure, so I hung out while they packed up their instruments, a good time laughing and joking.
The brat that I was complained about my parents and the road trip. One guy wisely told me that later on I might remember the trip, or not, but I will treasure that time with my family more.
Of course, he was right.
By this time the sky was just starting to get light, we walked out of the building, they locked up, and walked over to Tremé.
One of the musicians said to me, You got a dollar bill? Take it out, and fold it the long way, which I did. Then we came up to a house, knocked on a window that faced the sidewalk. One by one we put our dollar bill into the window, and out comes a bowl of red beans and rice and sausage. We all stood around, leaned on a wall, or sat on the curb and ate quietly.
One by one they put their bowl back in the window and said Good night. The morning sun was coming up. As usual I lingered, and everybody left, and I returned my bowl to the window.
It was an hour walk back to the motel to see if my parents were there, and they were, the car was parked right where it had been the day before. There was a chair across the way by the pool, I took a nap there until I saw my brother look out the window.
They wanted to know what I had done, I told them, and they never mentioned it again. I didn’t ask what they did.
My dad abandoned his plan to go to Miami and drive up the east coast. Read about a possible reason here
We probably stopped in Memphis, but didn’t see anything. We had pizza half a block from our hotel in Chicago. I resisted doing the my day in the city thing. So all I saw of Chicago was a pizza place. Not even deep dish.
We went on to Winnipeg. I was impressed at their clean skid row. I would have liked to see Montreal and Quebec, but no. I know we stopped in Calgary. When we went to Vancouver I insisted that we stay another day and see Victoria Island. They agreed.
Then we must have stopped somewhere, probably Portland. When we got to San Francisco we were in familiar surroundings, we spent a few days eating.
On to my dad's favorite clam chowder restaurant in Pismo Beach.
Then we came home after driving around much of North America.
Sometimes you will never know the value of a
moment until it becomes a memory.
Dr. Suess