Monday, April 24, 2017

A Train Journey

I'm sitting on an Amtrak train.

I haven't ridden one since college, when I thought myself fancy to be doing the Boston to NY thing in the years before the Acela train.

In 2002, I recounted an adventure that I had on one trip, where yours truly was a young and wide eyed darling who had a man sit beside her and chat her up, only to whip out a naked man magazine to enjoy, and leave in the seat back when he departed. Additionally, I told tale of a man masturbating while reading Shakespeare.

If you would like to read that post, which I think is still one of the funniest things I've ever written, go right ahead and click here. Then come back.

I was 18 when those adventures happened. Shortly after I got a car, and would drive back and forth with friends or Douglas, and life was so much better. I've had plenty of car adventures but holy cow those two train adventures took the cake for young me.

Now me would probably speak up. I'd ask the first guy what his deal was. I'd ask the other guy to go sit somewhere else, that I didn't really want to watch him climax to Shakespeare. I find I have a lot less patience for shit while traveling.

I just want to get from point A to point B safely and happily.

So here I am on the train. Headed to see my sister. Nothing adventurous happening. Everyone on their phones. I thought this was a quiet car but I guess not due to all the people around me making lots of noise. I canceled two calls this afternoon because I didn't want to disturb anyone. But so far, every talking person is well behaved and nice. It's all business, and no penises.

There are little victories.

Saturday, April 08, 2017

"laissez le bon temps rouler" - Doug and Chris in New Orleans

Doug and I recently took a trip to New Orleans. I am semi-regretting the cost right now due to the fact we did our taxes today and owe a lot more than I thought we would. Oops. Anyway, you can't change the past and we have enough to cover the taxes overall. It just kind of sucks to see so much money swooping out of the account all at once.

I won't do a full roundup of the day by day events because a lot of it is a blur. Instead, I offer observations. And as always, pictures are here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/amusings/albums/72157682132141475 I need to move my cell phone pictures into that collection. There are some good ones.

First, flying home in a blizzard sucks. Especially when you get on the plane and you have to pee, and then the pilot tells everyone they won't be allowed out of their seats for the entire flight due to the turbulence.

Even worse is driving home from the airport in said blizzard. When your 40 minute drive from the airport turns into a longer trip than it is to fly up from Baltimore to NH you know it's not good.

I'm way too old for Bourbon Street.

However, we enjoyed Frenchman Street much more as it was a little more grown-up, even if it was drunk.

Nothing fires white people up like a 10 piece horn and drum band playing "Seven Nation Army."

White people are also really cheap. Tip the fucking band, tourist dip-shits. They're working hard for you. Cough up a 5.

New Orleans is not a place to live if you're an alcoholic. Bars are open 24 hours a day, and I think the temptation to drink on the way to the office would be rather great.

We drank a lot more than we usually do. Day drinking on a patio at 85 degrees and 80% humidity is mandatory, to help assuage the heat. After coming straight from 20 degree temps to the "tropics" I thought I may wither and die like a hot house flower.

Bartenders are pretty friendly.

If we walk into your bar, and it is empty, and you don't acknowledge or welcome us, chances are we'll walk out. If we walk in and you say "hey guys! Welcome! Whattaya havin'?" you've got a customer. It's easy. Try it. We tip ridiculously well. Yeah, we're tourists, you don't really care where we're from. But just make pretend for a few minutes and ask me if I want a second drink.

Stumbling upon a very real Mississippi river funeral with a brass band playing hymns like "I'll Fly Away" is very moving. Finding out the funeral was for a 14 year old boy who was a member of that band is even more moving. Especially when it was a suicide. You may find yourself standing on the sidewalk crying your heart out for someone you never knew, and a family you want to console but you know it isn't really the right thing to do, and you should just move along after the band shuffles across to Jackson Square.

Knowing that these people are sharing an intensely personal moment in a very public venue that makes them look like they are simply entertainers like any other jazz group playing hymns in New Orleans is mind blowing. I thank them for being there at that time. And will not forget the roses flowing down towards the giant container ships and riverboats rolling out of the city.

Streetcars are for tourists. Knowing the streetcar routes will prevent you from a 90 minute bus ride all over the place. But that 90 minute bus ride all over the place will show you a lot of a city that you may never see.

Trust the Tulane student who tells you where to get off the bus instead of the bus driver who tells you where to get off.

Pay attention to your social media. When you realize a friend is there at the same time as you, overlapping vacations, hit them up. You may see amazing things together and have big laughs and walk arm in arm like 30 plus years never passed since you last snarled at one another in high school.

People and musician watching with a giant iced coffee in hand is an art I'm perfecting.

We never made it to Treme. The French Quarter is far bigger than you think. Especially coming from Boston where the area around Fanieul Hall is kind of what you expected for the size and scope of the area.

There need to be more benches for people.

The WWII museum is a fantastic place to visit. We spent 6 hours there. Could have spent more. And Tom Hanks is a national treasure. God bless that man and the work he does.

Don't be these guys:

Voodoo Kid on Spring Break
Oh look at you. Guy in the airport wearing all kinds of beads and holding some sort of voodoo statue picked up at a tourist trap, droning on and on to some girls about how much you know about Marie Laveau and ritual and how meaningful and beautiful it is. Shut up. You were on spring break and now what, you're so "woke" about this? No one is impressed, and put that stupid statue back in your backpack as you go back to your Maryland College life.

Jazz Sax Guy
You're in a band. A five piece band. Act like you're part of the team. When your solo is over, don't walk off to the right and check your phone while the guitarist or keyboard player "takes it away." Appreciate what they are doing. Groove on it. If you look into it, we'll look into it. You have 20 people on a little patio all to yourself. Quit making "Oh I fucked up that note" noises when you fuck up that note, because you know what? It's jazz. None of us noticed. We were enjoying it until you groaned like a rabid boar.

I'm sure I have some more observations. And it only took me four days of being back at work before I realized how much I wanted to go away again. I think that's a record.

Enjoy the photos.