I loved New Orleans so much that I wanted to take Beth with me on one of my trips so that she could experience it. I was lucky enough to have a manager who allowed her employees flexibility. We didn’t want to fly, so we decided to go by Amtrak train. Since the cost was actually less than what a flight would cost at that time, the Company had no problem picking up the charge. My manager allowed me to wrap vacation around the trip — at the beginning and at the end. We didn’t have kids yet, so there was no issue with just packing up and heading out!

The first leg of the trip was Boston to New York, and we took a pretty old Amtrak train. We had a private room, but we were moving backwards — which did not do much for Beth’s stomach. The porter came to our rescue by giving us a pill called Bonine (a variation on Dramamine, I guess) and it worked perfectly. Beth also suffers from PTSD and has panic disorder. Normally, this means she climbs the walls, gets claustrophobic and ends up in full panic attack mode (very unpleasant) in small quarters…like, maybe, a train car? However, the only thing that can be more problematic is meeting new people and being in crowds. The first night, the room won. We ate dinner in our car instead of going to the dining car. She did fine with the room. This was not a sleeper because it was a short trip.

We switched to a new train at Penn Station. Our room had a sleeper with a very small shower. This train took us all the way to Chicago. I don’t remember very much on this leg of the trip. It was probably spent reading and just laying back. We started eating in the dining car and met some really nice people. There is one specific incident I remember vividly. The bed had an upper and lower berth, but we decided to sleep together on the lower berth. We’re sleeping together buck naked as we pulled into the station in Pittsburgh and came to a stop to pick up and drop off.  Half asleep, I asked, “Why am I so fucking cold here?” All of a sudden, Beth bursts out laughing, “Because you’re naked ass is pressed up against the glass and we’re in the middle of a train station.”  It was early March, so it was still cold early in the morning and late at night. Wow! I can’t tell you how quickly I moved to remedy that situation. The station was packed.

We had a layover of several hours in Chicago, another fun town. We shoved our luggage into one of the lockers at Union Station and took a cab to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch where we had two of the most unbelievable burgers on earth.  Then it was back to Union Station to board the City of New Orleans for the 900 mile journey to our destination. The City of New Orleans is a superliner, and our room was something we’d never expected. It had a bed, a full shower and a refrigerator. It was roomy. We didn’t have to worry about anything; the meals were included in the fare.  The dining car experience could not have been better. We sat with the same people and got to know them during the time we spent together, while the Sightseer Lounge was a great way to take in the scenery. They also ran feature movies in the evening, but we didn’t have a chance to do that.  Best of all, our porter was a big old queen and we had the best time with him the rest of the trip. He gave us a list of ‘gay’ places to check out in NOLA, but we never had the chance.

Reaching our destination

We arrived in New Orleans around mid-morning on a Thursday. I had no idea we would come in through the bayou, so that was an unexpected treat. It was an amazing sight with all the cypress trees, crocs and alligators. As soon as we had collected our luggage, we took a cab to the Sheraton and slept for a few hours. It was only Thursday and I didn’t have the pre-show meeting until Sunday night. That gave us plenty of time to start seeing the town. It’s different when you travel for business. There’s typically not a lot of time to walk around during the day and explore the city. Your free time is usually spent with business associates at dinner and maybe at a club after for a few drinks. I didn’t want to spend my time at bars on this trip.

Our first day there, we visited Voodoo Authentica — just one of the Voodoo shops in the French Quarter. There was a huge cauldron cooking in the middle of the room (to this day, I wonder what was brewing in that thing), and I was completely taken in by their collection of voodoo dolls. We also visited the French Market. This place carries everything from hot sauces, to ristras, to velvet Elvis paintings.  It’s the home of the famous (or infamous, depending upon how you feel about it) gator on a stick. We had dinner at Cafe Sbisa, a restaurant that opened back in 1899 and served authentic Creole dishes. I had discovered this restaurant during a business trip and absolutely loved it. Unfortunately, it was damaged by Hurricane Katrina, reopening in 2008 under new ownership.

We missed breakfast in New Orleans the first day, but we were up bright and early the next day to go to the world famous Cafe du Monde for a traditional breakfast of Community Coffee (dark coffee and chicory) and Beignets. We had intended to go to Brennan’s at least once during the trip, but we simply couldn’t tear ourselves away from  the beignets at the Cafe du Monde. I could bore you here with the freakin’ history of the beignet — the original donut, folks, no matter what Dunkin’ Donuts and Krispy Kreme tell you, but I’ll just send you to this link which gives you its history and the authentic recipe. Every morning we were there, we’d leave the hotel and walk to the Cafe for beignets and coffee, and then we’d walk down near the Mississippi and enjoy some party material. Then, we’d set off to explore the city.

I can’t remember what we specifically did on each day, but it was a great adventure. I took Beth to K-Paul’s because it was legendary and I really wanted her to experience it.  By the way, a bit of trivia: His wife’s name is Kay. Therefore, the name K-Paul. Anyway, it was Paul Prudhomme who put cajun cooking on the map.  It was his original head chef who came up to Boston to open the Cajun Yankee that graced Inman Square in Cambridge for so many years. I used to love that place and was extremely sad to see it go. We also went to Antoine’s one night.

I have to tell you that I’ve been in the immediate proximity of famous people before, and I always fail to complete the loop and ask for an autograph. Like the time I stood shoulder to shoulder with Emmylou Harris (who was waiting for her tour bus) in the lobby of a crowded Lenox Hotel in Boston. I just stared at her. Well, Beth and I decided to go to the House of Blues for lunch one day. The place had not yet filled up and we were sitting near the stage when Allan Toussaint and Aaron Neville walked in and stood right next to our table while discussing a gig they’d be playing there sometime in the future. Aaron Neville even tipped his hat to us. We waved and then I just sat there staring. My food got cold. I’m like an idiot in those circumstances.

It’s tough to remember every thing we did. I know I bought Beth a harmonica in some downtown record store, but I can’t remember the name for the life of me. We spent a day at the Aquarium of the Americas. They had a great rainforest exhibit running during the time we were there. I remember bits and pieces of that, especially the glass archway with fish smimming above you. You’re actually walking through the middle of a huge tank exhibit.

Beth remembers that we did the Riverwalk on the same day that we went to the Aquarium. I remember the Riverwalk trip as well, but not the specific day. We went to a cooking store there and they were giving cajun cooking lessons in the morning. Beth really wanted me to sign up, but I resisted that idea because I was trying to keep from scheduling my trip the way I schedule my everyday life. I had so many deadlines and delivery dates driving my professional life that I really hated being tied to a time when I was on my own time. That’s why I never take tours. As an aside, this is the same Riverwalk that was taken out by the barge a few years after our trip (I think the accident happened in 1996).

NOLA is an incredibly interesting town. It’s historic. It’s unique. It stands out from the rest. While I know several people who have lived there and hated it (these were mostly people transplanted to NOLA from other cities), I also know many more that absolutely love visiting there for the things that make it so culturally diverse. For those who were born and grew up there, it is home.  In my mind, the unconscionable way our government handled the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina is as big a moral crime as Iraq. Somehow, somebody decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to try to save Louisiana. Then, they decided it wasn’t worth it to rebuild it, leaving so very many people like nomads without a home. Yet, we can spend billions upon billions of dollars on these two disgusting, illegal and immoral wars. I could go on about this, but I won’t here. There’s another forum for this kind of stuff.

Business crept back in for a few days, but we had two days after the show to continue exploring the city. We were exposed to our very first jazz funeral as it went through the French Quarter. It was quite a spectacle. Again, just more stuff steeped in history and tradition. And there’s just so much music everywhere there. It isn’t uncommon to just stop and listen to whomever is playing in the middle of the street. As for the train ride back, neither of us has a real clear vision of it. I think we were just plain old wiped out and probably slept most of the way home.

Let’s just say that Beth and I are both eager to return to New Orleans some day,, and this time we’d love to take the kids with us.

I was never much a fan of business travel. I always thought it was overrated. The only good thing about it was that you kind of got to preview a place before you ended up spending your own money traveling there. My absolute favorite business travel destination? Well, it was neither Paris, nor the French countryside. It was not London. It was not Germany. It wasn’t San Francisco or D.C., although I absolutely love both places and they are probably both the only places outside of Massachusetts that I’d ever live. It was New Orleans, a place I’d probably never live.

Yes, I have a good friend who will tell you what a swill-bucket existence it is in New Orleans, and I am sure this is particularly true post-Katrina. In fact, one of the most vivid images I have in my head happens to be a huge poster in the French Quarter that displayed the differences in pay, crime, poverty rate, etc., between New Orleans and Boston. The numbers told the ugly story. However, if you are an outsider visiting New Orleans, you have an entirely different perspective because you don’t have to live there.

I may not want to live there, but partying there was a trip. You could work all damned day at a trade show, have to go to dinner with the ’suits’ at night, and you could still get some decent partying hours in. That is particularly true of the French Quarter which simply never shuts down. Leave a drink behind because you’re late for dinner? Unheard of. The bartenders in the hotels simply poured them into a plastic cup so you could finish your drink in the cab on the way to the restaurant.

There were always things going on at night. Some of the publishers would have parties on river boats with gambling; others would have buffet dinners with an open bar in their hotel meeting rooms. I preferred to hang out with my favorite sales people one-on-one because you’d actually get out and see the town. My absolute favorite sales guy was a guy named Ed from a publication called Analytical Chemistry. Ed and I couldn’t have been more different. He was a conservative from “the great state of Georgia,” and I was (and still am) a liberal from Massachusetts. We simply didn’t let it get in the way of our friendship. We never talked about politics.

Every time we’d go to New Orleans for the Pittsburgh Conference, Ed and I end up at  Commander’s Palace in the Garden District.  At the time, the head chef there was a guy named Emeril LeGasse — now one of my all-time favorite chefs. A couple of times we went to Brennan’s for breakfast and, if we did lunch instead of dinner, we loved the food at the Hard Rock Cafe. It was definitely New Orleans style food and the memorabilia in the place was regionalized as well — like Fats Domino’s piano top hanging on the wall, one of Doctor John’s outfits in a glass case above the entrance, or videos of Professor Longhair playing away in the background.

No bad food in New Orleans

Regardless of the size of the place, there is no bad food in New Orleans. If you love food, this is the place to be. I had my first alligator dish there; it was alligator sausages at breakfast one day in the French Quarter. It was a really small place and I cannot remember the name of  it. I liked it so much that I ended up having it stir fried at a Szechuan restaurant in Jackson Square and had the famous “alligator on a stick” at the French Market.

The Sheraton I stayed at on one trip celebrated Happy Hour by putting a row boat in the middle of the lobby bar filled with boiled crawfish and handing out free bottles of Blackened Voodoo Beer for the first hour. It was just awesome. In fact, Beth and I went on one trip together by train (this trip is one that deserves its own post, and it will get one down the road) and we made sure to stay at the same Sheraton.

On one trip, about fifteen of us were determined to eat at K-Paul’s. Paul Prudhomme is the grandaddy of cajun cooking. The lines outside his restaurant were legendary. They could extend the full length of the street, and you would wait for hours. As soon as we saw the line forming in the early afternoon, we pulled someone off booth duty and told them to stand in line so that we could get in when the place opened at 5:30 p.m. It worked perfectly. We ran over there after the show and were seated by about 6:30 p.m. There’s no flash in K-Paul’s. It’s rustic with family-style seating. We all got to sit together at one table, so we ordered a bucket of Cajun Martinis. I had the most amazing blackened yellowfin tuna I’ve ever had, and Paul Prudhomme was there that night. I still have the menu he signed and gave me. I also bought his first cookbook there on that trip. It’s one of my favorites.

The real fun started later

I never worried much about being gay at Millipore. (Well, let’s put it this way: I wasn’t worried at this time. I found that I had to worry later, once the Europeans took over.) I was pretty much out and headed for the bars after hours. Some of the Millipore revelers even came once in a while. If you’re gay, it’s not hard to find a place to party in New Orleans. A must see is Cafe Lafitte in Exile on Bourbon Street, which just happens to be the oldest gay bar in America. But things could get much more interesting than that late at night in New Orleans.

If you wanted to blow somebody’s mind, you took them to The Dungeon on Toulouse Street. The Dungeon was not necessarily a gay bar in the true sense of the word, but plenty of gay people frequented The Dungeon. This place was just amazing. Hell, it didn’t open until 10:30 p.m. Trust me when I tell you that your first trip there would amount to you walking around with your mouth open for what seemed to be hours. According to legend, the dungeon was where Prince Suleman of Turkey lured young women and prepared them for the harems of Istanbul by “psychological indoctrination, opium-induced submission and torture.”  I could spend hours describing it, so instead I’ll just rely on the link to tell the story. Besides, you get pictures.

For some stupid reason I’ll never understand, they decided to change the venue of the Pittsburgh Conference so that it rotated between Chicago and New Orleans, so the trips to New Orleans slowed down. However, on one of the final trips I made, I took Beth with me and we wrapped some vacation time around the business trip. That allowed us to take the train all the way to New Orleans. It was a blast. That story is coming up soon.

(Oh, yeah, I had a freakin’ ass kicking experience in Chicago once at this show as well. I’ll have to tell you about it some time.)