BIG TRIP Chapter 3

This year marks the 20th anniversary of a cross country solo road trip I took in 2002. When we left off at the end of Chapter 2, I was on my second or third day of exploring the French Quarter. ~rh

Around town I saw and heard countless street performers: solo musicians, duos, trios, small groups, dancers, bucket drummers, fiddle players, trumpeters, and quite a few human statues. I got some pretty cool sounds on tape with my mini-recorder: lots of street sounds and music. This morning I recorded the sounds of the swamp at dawn - lots of birds and frogs, etc. Total cacophony. Actually woke me up! The night before last, when I was deeply distressed, I opened my bible looking for some relief. Small miracle, no pun intended, I opened it to the book of Mark, chapter 1 verse 3: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight”. I was, at that precise moment, “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness”. Very much so, as I was camping alone in a secluded woodsy swamp. This passage brought me a sense of calm when I needed it most. I read a few more pages and then went to sleep with much greater ease than I had anticipated. I believe there is a reason why I opened that BIG book to that specific passage. Just as I believe that a higher power must have wanted ME to be the next person walking down the street when that man lost his wallet. On my perambulations I was witness to a classic French Quarter scene, a brief exchange about Jazz Fest between two friendly neighbors. A woman named “Mercy”, presumably, rode her bicycle past a male friend on a French Quarter sidewalk without slowing down at all as she passed. “Mercy!” Rrrring! (Bicycle bell) “Have a good ‘fest?” “Good, yeh. You?” “Excellent.”

DAY 7 of my big trip - Wednesday May 8th 2002 was yet another amazing day in the Quarter. In the morning, I hand-washed a few things and threw ‘em in the dryer at the campground. I had a breakfast bar, ice coffee, trail mix, water, small can of sliced pineapples, and I took a vitamin with my scrip. Much better way to start the day. Sat at my little picnic table with a tiny cassette player playing Willie Nelson and I read a little bit more from the book of Mark. Took a shower and went to the city after a brief visit to the Westwego, LA public library to check my e-mail. I bought a paper and walked around a few minutes before going to Tujague’s for lunch. Great big traditional cajun meal there: crawfish tails with white clam sauce over pasta, big bowl of GUMBO, even the salad was unique and delicious. Another full day of walking around, taking pictures, recording street sounds and music. In the paper I read about a free concert in Lafayette Square by The Radiators, from 5:30 to 7:30. This park turned out to be only about a block and a half from where I’d parked my car. Not TOO hard to find! I sat down under a big tree whose big roots seemed to be perfectly contoured to my ASS. Hilarious, AND comfortable. The show began just as I sat down. Beers were only 2 dollars and I gulped down a couple in rapid succession. I recorded some of the band’s performance and snapped a few pictures, too. It seemed to me a Quintessential New Orleans Moment: free show in a city park, like a mini-festival with people drinking and dancing and having fun.

Night is falling as I write this by the banks of the Mississippi. There is a cool breeze blowing in off the river and it’s the first time I’ve felt a chill in several days. This town is great, but there is something unsettling about its gentrification. Any city would be proud to have a heritage like this one. In fact, I believe that very few in this country have anything close. But it IS very touristy down here in the French Quarter. I confess that I did not venture out AT ALL to any of the other areas: The Garden District, etc. So obviously I do not have a balanced or very informed perspective. And the traditions here are very deep and very real. But there’s an awful lot of drunk assholes just carrying on in the Quarter, partying and getting fucked up like they have every right to do - this, too, is a New Orleans tradition. But I wonder just how much they know or care about all the amazing history in their midst – Jazz, the Civil War, New Orleans cuisine, etc. Deserving of special mention: I passed writer/comedian/actor Eric Bogosian walking down the street in the French Quarter. Possibly on Iberville or Bienville Street, an area bustling with big trucks and a lot of shipping activity. This brings my New Orleans Celebrity Sightings count up to a whopping TWO.

This is my last night in the Quarter. So I’m gonna take one last stroll around before I return to the campsite. Leaving for Texas tomorrow morning at first light.

* Afterthoughts:

It was HOT AS HELL the entire time I was in New Orleans. There had been no rain for over 30 days – extreeemly rare in those parts. Daytime temps stayed in the upper 90s, sometimes cracking 100 degrees. Overnight temperatures dropped only into the 80s. The air got pretty stuffy in my tent at night and it sometimes made it difficult to sleep. It was an exceptionally hot and DRY month or so that I was on the road. All across the country my little car crossed over many dry riverbeds. I’d see signs for This River and That, but I saw very little water under the bridges I traversed and no serious rapids or big flowing rivers until the I saw the Colorado River in Utah, some 4 or 5 weeks into my trip. (Except for the big ones like the Ohio River, which I crossed in the first 15 minutes on Day 1 and The Mississippi, of course.) Generally speaking, New Orleans was a big thrill, a serious highlight on a long journey. I left wishing I could stay there a few more days. But I knew I was only a week into my trip and I had a LOT more to see and do.