Totally True Things that Happened to My Sister and Me in New Orleans Last Week

Last Christmas, my sister, Katie, bought me plane tickets and a hotel room in New Orleans. My close friend from college and my sister's close friend from grad school have both moved down there in the past year, so we were excited to catch up. The trip was last week, and I offer here a few highlights.

Our flight getting indefinitely delayed by a 50,000' thunderstorm

This was a discouraging start to the trip. Fortunately, we finally got to the hotel around 5:30AM the day after we were supposed to arrive. Our string of exasperated Facebook posts about it attracted the attention of some college friendsz     of mine, which led to . . .

A random surprise reunion

We were there, as I said, to visit two friends that we know in New Orleans. Unbeknownst to us, three other people I knew were also in town for the Jazz Festival. After we finally landed and got to the hotel, I got a call saying "we're around the block from your hotel! Come meet us for lunch!"

After lunch, they were headed to the Pharmacy Museum, so my sister and I tagged along. The tour of this museum emphasizes how disease-ridden New Orleans was for most of its history, and how pre-germ-theory medicine was ineffective, barbaric, and often fatal. The Pharmacy Museum is a good place to remember how lucky you are to live in the 21st century. It is an excellent destination for anyone who isn't squeamish.

Cuba comes to N'Awlins

My sister, my friend Sarah, and I did attend one day of Jazz Fest. Among other things, we learned that everything people say about outdoor music festivals is very true: hot, dusty, not enough bathrooms, overpriced food and water, crowded, loud - and TONS of fun.

Despite the name, this festival is about more than just jazz music.There were acts playing every kind of music: gospel, blues, hip-hop, rock (Stevie Wonder!), even pop (Meghan Trainor!) The cultural exchange tent stood out from the rest because it housed, for the first time in the festival's history, Cuban acts.

Pictured: a huge crowd watching a band play in front of a banner that says "Viva Cuba;" proof that the Cold War is finally over!

The tent had Cuban artists demonstrating handicrafts (corn-husk sculptures, hand-rolled cigars). The best part was the giant dance floor packed full of Americans dancing to Cuban music. I never could've imagined, even 5 years ago, that I'd live to see the US and Cuba be friends again. But I have!

Underestimating the size of a body of water (Christopher Columbus had this same problem)

When Katie and I took the obligatory hop-on-hop-off bus tour of New Orleans, the guide informed us that New Orleanians do not use north, south, east, and west. The proper terms, apparently, are "lakeside" (towards Lake Pontchartrain), "riverside" (towards the Mississippi), "uptown" (upriver), and "downtown" (downriver). After a few days of hearing talk like this, Katie said, "Where is this fabled lake?"

My friend Sarah offered to drive us over to see it. So, even though it was already rush hour, we hopped in the car and headed lakeside. We had already merged onto the causeway that crosses the lake before we realized: We couldn't see the other side!

It turns out that Lake Pontchartrain is twenty-four miles wide. The causeway onto which we had just driven is the world's longest bridge. And, once we were on it, there was no turning back!

We ended up eating dinner at a sports bar in a town called Mandeville. Mandeville is 1/400th the size of New Orleans, half the size of the town I grew up in, and not a popular tourist destination. But the cheeseburgers were pretty good, and the drinks were far cheaper than they were in the French Quarter.

Katie, Sarah, and I in Mandeville, Louisiana

Accidental anniversary champagne

Katie and I were staying in the Bourbon Orleans Hotel, which is famous as the Most Haunted Hotel in New Orleans. Apparently, it started out as a dance hall where duels happened routinely, got turned into a military hospital, then was taken over by nuns (one of whom may have hanged herself there) and used as an orphanage. (This was back when New Orleans was suffering regular epidemics of cholera, yellow fever, and malaria - they had lots of orphans.) Guests in the hotel have reported meeting ghosts of Confederate soldiers, little girls who roll balls towards you and then disappear, distraught dead debutantes, etc. 

We did not realize, when we booked, that the hotel had this reputation. But I stress that we, personally, encountered no ghosts and had a lovely time overall.

On our last night there, a porter knocked on our door and delivered champagne, two glasses, and breakfast vouchers for the restaurant. "But we didn't order anything," Katie said.

"It's on us," the porter said. It did say our name and room number on the card. We accepted.

While we were drinking the champagne, I convinced Katie that we should at least check to see whether this was a present we should be thanking someone for. I called the front desk.

"Your mother called and asked us to take care of you," the receptionist explained.

That's so sweet of mom! We better call her and thank her.

Mom: "Wow! I'm great! There's just one thing . . . I don't even know where you guys are staying. I didn't call your hotel. But I do want them to take care of you."

Now, Katie was laughing and I was scared thinking maybe this was poisoned, or sent by ghosts, or something. So I called the front desk back, and this time I got a different receptionist on the phone.

Me: "You guys just gave us champagne you said was from our mother, but we just spoke to our mother, and she didn't send us anything. Did you happen to get a name of the person who ordered this?"

Him: "It says on our amenity sheet that it's your anniversary."

Me: "Uh . . . we're a pair of sisters . . ."

Him: "Oh, whoops. Welp, you can keep it. We'll figure out whose anniversary it actually is and send another bottle."

Getting mistaken for my sister's wife is another thing I never could've imagined, even just 5 years ago.

The accidental anniversary champagne was step 1 in the sequence of events that led to my drinking two glasses of champagne, "the best mojito on Bourbon Street," half of a hurricane, and two sips of a gin fizz, then going souvenir shopping. I fit right in on Bourbon Street.

Getting evacuated from Jackson Square Park . . . because of the Civil War

This one's quite complicated, so I've made it a separate post.