I Do Not Miss New Orleans

Jack had never been to New Orleans, which is not my favorite city, but I had not seen my daughter since before the pandemic and he hadn't ever met her, so we decided it was as good a time as any to visit.  We decided to take the train because flying sounds like a nightmare lately, Jack had enjoyed train travel for years, and I had never been in a sleeper car.  Train travel makes for a long but fairly stress-free trip.  When Jack last traveled by sleeper car he told me about the white linen service in the dining room and the amazing porters who catered to his every need.  We first took the train to Chicago, then had a 7-hour layover (made a little more comfortable by use of their ‘first class’ lounge, a perk that went with the sleeper car and that we discovered by accident since no one told us about it).  Finally, we boarded the train they call the City of New Orleans (there is an earworm for you music lovers and yes, they really do call the train that).   

On our way from Chicago to New Orleans, we had a “roomette”, which is, as the man across the aisle said to me when he saw his, “a whole lot smaller than I expected.”  It was the size of two coach seats, facing each other, with a pull down shelf above them.  Less than 4 feet wide,  just barely long enough for Jack to lie down when the two ‘bunks’ were assembled, and a little claustrophobic since there are curtains in place to close the cubby off from outside view.  Still, it was surprisingly comfortable and the phrase “rock me baby like a southbound train” is apt; the motion of the train after a long travel day put me out like a light.   So that was the plus side of the trip.  On the other hand, the meals that used to be considered a really good part of train travel seem to have disappeared with Covid.   Meals were still provided, but they were the worst possible version of a tv dinner, a small plate of microwaved and barely edible stuff, served at 9:30 pm,  that caused heartburn so severe that it woke me up repeatedly during the night.  Breakfast and lunch were no better.  When I mentioned this to someone later they told me “you get what you pay for,” but in fact the train travel took two days and cost considerably more - nearly 3 times more - than a flight would have.     Even so, we arrived.  

We couldn’t reach my daughter the first night but we did get in touch the next morning.  My daughter has what one might call ‘issues;’ she is disabled and not real reliable, but we finally got in touch and had dinner with her and her partner that evening.  

We had hoped to spend whole days with her and, although I surely should have known better, we spent the first day and a half sitting in our hotel room, waiting for her to be ready to meet.  

On both the second and third days, we tried to set up plans to take her to do some errands she needed done and that she couldn’t afford— updating her state ID, getting her a transportation pass, things like that — but she was not quite ready whenever we checked with her so Jack and I went out to see some sights and kill some time.  We walked all day both days, listening to street music and letting Jack soak in some of the feel of the city, ride the streetcars, eat all the blackened catfish he could hold, and taste alligator for the first time (he  liked it).   

Like any first-timer, he bought a few souvenirs.  Jack decided he wanted a "New Orleans Hat" and found one at Eunice's Jazzy Hats on Dauphine Street.  Several people complimented him on it during the day, so maybe it really is NOLA style!

The fourth day, while we were again waiting for my daughter to be ready, her partner collapsed in their kitchen and was rushed to the hospital, where he was placed in the ICU.   It was all for the best that she was home when it happened.  All of our intended plans came to a halt then, and she later met us briefly to pick up the food we had gotten for her, but it was a difficult visit for her because she was understandably overwhelmed.  Her partner was initially on a ventilator and she was afraid to even visit him, but by the time Jack and I visited the next day, he was awake and alert, and the ICU nurse assured me that he is expected to make a full recovery.  By this time my daughter had stopped answering the phone but I sent her a photo of her partner, hoping to reassure her.  The next morning it was time for Jack and me to board the train for home, still without getting in touch with my youngest child.  Not the visit or the ending that any of us hoped for.   

Hard times happen to everyone.  But mentally healthy children are so easy to take for granted.  Take it from me — don’t.