New Orelans: Un

Over dinner the night before Tay arrived, we were tossing out ideas of what we all could do, and someone brought up the idea of New Orleans. Everyone jumped on tablets and started hunting for available hotels.

Tay arrived (see previous post) and friday around two, dad came back from work early and we hit the dusty trail for NOLA for the weekend. It's normally about a five hour drive, but with heavy traffic on the way, it took us over six hours. It's pretty though, the rolling Texas coastal plains gives way to swamp and bayou and industrial corridors, and before too long we were flying over the elevated freeway over the salt mashes.

Since I was about five years old, my parents had talked about how great the food was in New Orleans. I grew up learning that all everything you ate was amazing, and that the best restaurant was someplace called Commander's Palace. Dad made us reservations there friday night, and we were trying to fight the traffic to get into NOLA with enough time to check in and change at the hotel.

It was a little surreal to be back in New Orleans again. I was happy to be back there, and really excited to be seeing it with family and Tay in particular since we both enjoy exploring old walkable cities. It reminded me of visiting three years ago with my architecture and infrastructure studio, and made me miss the friends I had in studio. It also made me a little sad to think about Saori, since in my previous trip to Nola, I told myself, "The next time I'm New Orleans, I'll be showing it to Saori." In retrospect it's a stupid thing to think since we're both such avid travelers, and I did look for jobs in New Orleans for while she was working in Germany. Thinking back on it now, my studio trip was shortly after Saori took off for her study abroad, and I really missed her a lot in the time I was there.

Anyway, dad used a bunch of his hotel points and booked us two rooms in the beautiful old Roosevelt Hotel on Canal Street just across from the Vieux Carre. It's a gilded luxury hotel from a golden age of New Orleans. Mosaic tile floors, gilded columns, eagles and medallions on the walls, soaring, painted coffered ceilings. Leather chippendale furniture, valets and bellhops and concierge staff.

While dad checked in, we were approached by an early 40s guy in Tommy Bahama apparel and clutching what looked like a hurricane in a foam cup. He was drunk and wanted to know if Tay's hair was a wig. I forget sometimes that Tay's hair is a kind of mesmerizing attraction. The entire trip, Tay was being accosted by strangers who wanted to know (frequently) how he got his hair to do that, and (infrequently, always female) if they could touch it. Blitzed Tommy Bahama gave us a fistbump and that was our official welcome to New Orelans