The Arrival and Meandering

[Where we left off]

TEN AM

We landed safely and found our way to Baggage Claim 6, to the pick up point for app rides and then caught an Uber. We arrived to the hotel by 1030, but of course check-in was not until 4 pm. Melissa had called the hotel prior to leaving, and they had mentioned early check-in being likely. The concierge was a charismatic and youthful woman, with natural humor and a nack for guiding tourists to good eats. She allowed us to “freshen up” in the lobby bathroom and our luggage got locked into a large closet. She wrote down our phone number and ensured us she would call when a room was ready. She suggested we eat at Mother’s, a classic home-style family restaurant serving Cajun and Creole favorites.

…

The upbeat soul and charisma of the concierge made it difficult to hate her. She pulled out a map and circled where Pelham was at and where Mother’s was located on the map. Feeling secure that she would call us shortly after we finished our meal, we trekked to 401 Poydras to Mother’s Restaurant.

ELEVAN AM

The establishment was located in a historic building and we were greeted at the door by a server on her break. She smiled and delivered, “Hurry up, you’re gunna be late!” We all laughed. It felt like something a mother would say to her kids as they piled in from playing outside on a steamy day. And it was steamy out. Humid and in the 90s, sun beating down on the city. We entered and were greeted at the door by an older, happy-go-lucky gentleman. He handed us a menu and said, “Line up, all the way to the brick.” They all spoke with generous tones of glee. I thought it was refreshing, and surprising after a saw a sign posted behind the cash register “NO TIPPING.” The special of the day was Red Beans and Rice with several sides, what Melissa ended up ordering after much deliberation in her head. I ordered the Cheesy Grits with Shrimp Creole and a Spicy Bloody Mary. They make the spirits in bulk so I had my early cocktail instantly. The tomato juice and vodka hit my palette with some pleasant relief to the hot day, then the heat of the drink formed around my mouth. It was tart and full of flavor, exactly what a Bloody Mary should bring to the table. It did take me the next two hours to finish drinking though, because the vodka was plentiful and the spice was strong. Our food orders came up within minutes as well. The Cheesy grits were buttery and soft, but textured enough to add something to the dish. A meeting between mashed potatoes and oatmeal, they were unique and easily the best grits I have ever eaten. Scoops of grits were piled in the middle of the bowl, on top of the Shrimp Creole. It was a soup of salsa, shrimp, and Creole spices. It lacked the heat of the Bloody Mary, but it embodied rich flavors of more ingredients than I could see or even guess to list. I tried the Red Beans and Rice also. A thick salad of sausage, a variety of beans, and Cajun seasoning, topped onto basmati rice. Creamy and effortlessly filling to the belly. My dish came with a biscuit, full of flour, butter, and flakiness. Of course, the buttery inside of the biscuit did not stop me from topping it with spreaded butter and grape jelly.

After our tums had been served, we headed back to the city streets to meander. We stopped back at the Pelham, and the friendly concierge side-stepped our question about our room. “I’m going to get you in as soon as possible. I really want to help you. Let me put your food in our fridge and I will call you when your room is ready.” She also let us grab sunglasses out of our luggage, which was still locked in a back closet. The woman was playfully rubbing her belly, like a little Buddha statue would, then apologized because I noticed. I told her I was a nurse and had seen much worse, no sweat off my back.

NOON

Back to the streets again, the humidity hitting my face upon exiting the air conditioning. We saw Harrah’s from the two blocks distance to our hotel and decided to start there. Luckily, New Orleans has no holds bars against open alcohol on the street or in the car, if you are not driving; my Blood Mary trekked along with us and Harrah’s had no issue with me bringing it into the casino. I was carded upon entry, which was cute, as it has been over seven years since it was illegal for me to drink or gamble. The casino was huge, with vaulted ceilings, covered in chrome paint and carved like those of the Royal Family or classic cathedrals. Melissa won some money, around $25.00, which is approximately how much money I gambled into the casino abyss. I felt hopeful occasionally as I won back $11 here, $5 there, but ultimately left without any cash. There were many rooms to the casino, and even a diamond store for the successful high rollers to cash in all their winnings. We spent less than an hour there, thinking it was time to move on. Later finding out that if you get a Rewards Card, you can drink for free as long as you are gambling. We should have probably been listening when the hostess was talking, but we tuned her out after she asked us if we parked here. If you recall, Melissa’s car is at Routes Airport Parking in Chicago, and my car is at Melissa’s apartment in Bloomington.

ONE

We were interested in a swamp tour and walked by a tour scheduling stand. I started perusing the pamphlets, finding seven different swamp tours to choose from; placed in my purse for later viewing. We were stiff and strained from airplane napping, and I said a massage would be great. Of course, moments later we pass multiple massage parlors for $12 massages. Seemed sketchy though. The small-framed, middle-aged woman tried to coax us into one place, we mentioned we may come back later. Walking, we passed many forms of transportation, beyond the lines of cars, there were also buses, the streetcar trolley, and pedicab bicyclists. We stopped in small souvenir shops and local retail stores every few blocks, to get a gust of cold air on our sweat-covered skin. We passed Royal street art galleries, noting them for later return. Finding Jackson Square and peaking at the variety of street art, tied to the iron caste fence. Many artists were painting their creations right on the spot, while also selling originals and prints of previous days’ work. My envy bubbled for their nomadic lifestyles, creating their mind’s expressions for daily living. There was one artist that stuck out to me, painting architectural beauties in a reign of clouds. Next we passed a street band, performing original jazz pieces, mixed with classic covers. The trumpeter had an impressive and soulful sound.

…