its a free for all, you and me

The Big Easy, LA – A warm to hot and slightly humid early afternoon in the Big NO, so excited to finally be out of Texas

I can sum up the last few days this way: Just a big’ol dose of the South, and all the pros and cons that come with it.

After my last post, I returned to my motel and went poolside. The weather in Austin was special, as far as Texas was concerned. It was hot and humid, but sunny. Inclement weather had moved in on western Texas, thunder storms. I had left Guadalupe just in time. The eastern edge of Texas, and Louisiana were also having rain. There was this high pressure bubble sitting right over Austin. Nice.

I got a swim in and napped in the sun. After things cooled off a bit (and just a bit), I drove my four bundles of firewood downtown to 6th Street and searched for the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema. Sixth street in Austin is, basically, a tourist trap - although a tourist trap with some style. It offers endless restaurants, bars, and specialty stores. One such store was the “Tears of Joy”, offering a wide selection of hot sauces. All the bars feature live music every night. Even in the early afternoon most of the bars had some band makin' noise.

I found the Alamo Drafthouse. It looked pretty small from the outside. I learned that the theater had been in operation there since 1997, and that they were moving to a bigger theater, blocks away, in June. I still had an hour before they opened to the doors, so I took a walk over to the state capitol building. It was impressive looking, with nice and shaded lawns all around. I found a shady spot and had a sandwich.

The Alamo Drafthouse was a theater the likes I’d never seen before. Waiting in line, I found out that most everybody gets tickets online, to ensure they get a seat. Since it was a Monday though, I didn’t expect trouble getting a ticket. The Drafthouse was showing Alfred Hitchcock’s “Strangers On A Train.” In addition, they had Farley Granger, in house, for book signings and an interview after the film. Farley Granger (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0335048/) was an MGM contract actor in the late 40’s and 50’s. He later had a successful career on Broadway until he returned to film and tv. He starred in two Hitchcock films, the other being the edit-less gem “Rope.” I bought his book “Include Me Out” and had a short conversation with him as he signed my book. He asked me if I’d seen the film before (I hadn’t). I told him about my trip, and how the Drafthouse was of my destination theaters. He said he loved San Francisco, and that he had been there a couple years ago to see the Film Noir Festival (the year it was at the Palace of Fine Arts). He wished me well on my trip.

The Drafthouse offers film classics and modern fare, as well as horror/camp/B movies of different themes throughout the week. Music Mondays, Weird Wednesdays at the Grindhouse, and Terror Thursdays. In the last month, they had offered documentaries, a “Grindhouse” marathon, a Big Lebowski bowling party, the Rocky Horror Picture Show, A Clockwork Orange, Smokey and the Bandit, and a Jim Jarmusch retrospective. If I lived in Austin, I would be at the Drafthouse all the time. The Drafthouse auditorium features seat rows that each have their own bar tables in front. Servers wander about, serving food and drinks before and during the show.

At the Drafthouse, you can get a beer, and I ain’t talkin’ about no paper cup. You can get a glass of beer.

I had a Guinness and a plate of wings before the film started. A medley of classic Hollywood musicals played while the seating filled up. The film was great, “Strangers on a Train” is officially my second favorite Hitchcock film now, “Vertigo” being my favorite. While the film is screening, you can write down orders on a paper slip, clip the slip upright to the table, and a server comes along and gets your order.

Aftwards, Farley Granger and Bob Calhoun fielded questions. Its amazing to watch a film like that and then see the lead actor, 50 years older, be interviewed. The Drafthouse was the highlight of my stay in Texas.

The next day was hotter and still humid, but no rain. I spent a bunch of time poolside, got some lunch, did laundry, and packed up the car. Not much went on this day.

Early the next morning, I waded through Austin traffic and made for New Orleans. With the weather situation what it was, I decided to forego camping in western Louisiana. Making my way back to the 10, via 71, I caught the attention of the local sheriff.

Cross-country tip #3: Watch out for speed-traps along Texas Route 71.

Coming over a hill-top, I saw the police cruiser and hit the brakes. But it was too late. As my foot hit the pedal I saw the lights on his still-parked car go off. The sheriff pointed at me and I pulled over. I’m thinking the California plates factored into his action as well, as everyone around me was going 80 too.

He says: "You wer goin' 82 in a 70, any p-ticlar reason why?"

"No sir. "

Looking at all the gear in my back seat, he asked if I was moving. I told him about my trip, and he retorted by giving me a speeding ticket. His quota now met, perhaps, he abandoned his perch and sped off. Getting pulled over always gets your heart rate up a bit, but I wasn’t really upset, I figured I was bound to get one or two on the course of the trip. But then I read the fine print on the ticket: $172 (insert dramatic sucking of air). Ouch. My resolve to exit Texas greater than ever, I pressed on.

Stopping in Sealy, TX, I noticed that I had lost power steering. I remembered hearing a new rattle a little bit earlier. Not surprised in the least, I investigated. The power steering system in the Integra is marginal at best. The pump leaks, the hoses leak, and one of the pulley wheels is cracked - which causes the power steering belt to wear unevenly. It turned out that the belt had slipped off the pulley wheels. Sure enough, the belt was frayed on one side. Exacerbated by the leaking fluid, I'm sure, its amazing the thing didn't come off sooner. There was no way I was going to try to re-attach it. I cut it with some wire cutters I had in the tool box and pressed on.

The same thing happened when Chad and I drove to Colorado (to see Bjork) years ago. Except the belt had snapped on its own. We drove through Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and back to California powersteeringless.

It took me a total of 5+ hours to reach the Louisiana border. Traveling on the 10 in Texas is a long, mind-numbing, spirit-crushing, and seemingly never-ending process. Good riddance. The landscape changed immediately. Much of Highway 10 in Louisiana is elevated above various bayous. Wetlands. You can spot fishing boats putting around under the highway bridges. My mood was improving with each passing mile. Stopping for gas, I noticed that the power steering hoses were leaking at a faster rate. The level in the resevoir was dropping slowly ... I have to keep a close eye on that, if it runs out of fluid it will damage the pump beyond its already sorry state ... luckily I have two bottles of fluid ready to go ... maybe in Miami I could get a new belt installed...

ANYWAY, enjoying all the scenery and peculiar river names (e.g.: Atchafalaya - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atchafalaya_River), I reached New Orleans after another three hours. In total, the drive took nine hours. But I was in really good spirits when I arrived at the St. Peter’s House Hotel. The room I’d reserved was on the second floor, sharing a common balcony with the other rooms. The balcony overlooks Burgandy and St. Peter’s Streets. The weather was near-perfect, upper seventies, sunny, low humidity. I got really excited when I got to my room. It has hardwood floors, a fantastic antique-style bed (see pic, I don’t know what you call one of these…) and dresser, and a flat screen tv on the wall (a welcomed anachronism). In this hotel, and I imagine most of the historic buildings, everything is unlevel. The floors, doors, windows, heck, even my shower floor slants about 10 degrees down towards the drain. The balcony is the worst, with a 15 degree pitch towards the street. I imagined 200 years of folks leaning over the edge (as I am now). I turned the tv on to ESPN, turned off the volume, put on the Red Sox/Blue Jays game on the XM, had a beer, and took a shower.

Later, the Sox up 6-0 in the sixth, I took a stroll over to Bourbon St.

Bourbon St. is a pretty blatant tourist trap. I'm sure, long ago, it was something much cooler. Imagine the Embarcadero in SF, except that people can wander the streets with drinks in hand, and there's jazz and country music playing out of every building. Don't get me wrong, I think it has its own special charm. Maybe better enjoyed by a group. Its basically always a party on Bourbon St. During my stroll, I ended up getting dinner (rib-eye!), enjoyed a libation or two, and ended up singing at the karyoke bar on St. Peter's St. It was so much fun singing "Baby Got Back" to a large crowd. A girl later came up to me and gave me a high-five. So cool.

The day had completely turned around for the better.

This morning I woke up early and had to move my car. To park at any given spot on the streets of the french quarter between 7am-7pm, you need to have a resident tag displayed, if you want to park there longer than 2 hours. Not wanting to spend gads of time and energy fretting over the car all day, I parked the Integra in a nearby garage. The Integra would get its own lodgings in New Orleans.

Then I went for a run. Zig-zagging through the french quarter, I discovered a barbershop I'd visit later. I ran about a mile along the Mississippi, got lost downtown, and finally found my way back, running a mile or two more than intended. During the run I was also looking for a Starbucks, so I could post this blog. There is not a single Starbucks in the entire french quarter. I asked the hotel lady about it. Apparently, Starbucks is trying like the dickens to get a store installed at Jackson Square, but the folks in NO are saying: no way man.

After a shower, I walked about town to take pictures and get some coffee. If I wanted a Starbucks, I'd have to drive uptown, according to the lobby attendant. She suggested trying to catch a signal on the second floor balcony. At first the borrowed connection was too weak. But after about a half-hour, it jumped up to full connection speed. Someone, somwhere, had turned on ... something, and I was in business.

That pretty much brings us to the present. This afternoon I'm going to get a haircut (my first in over two months) and explore the outskirts of the french quarter, where supposedly the locals go to catch jazz music. New Orleans has so far been a complete joy. Life goes at a slower pace here. Peculiar people roam the streets. "The Big Easy" seems an accurate description.

To see all the pictures: http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AcMnLVq3aN2E8

Thanks to everyone who's been posting comments. Your encouragements put a smile on my face.

More soon.

Andy