The Ash Tray Kid

The city of New Orleans is getting lots of attention this week as they prepare to host the Baltimore Ravens and the San Francisco 49ers in Super Bowl XXXVII.  I have been to New Orleans once, in 1979, and found it to be a very interesting city.  It was the first major stop on the cross-country road trip I took with my old friends Carl Semmler and Alan Brown, and like pretty much everything about that trip my memories of the Big Easy are, to say the least, unusual.  Today I'd like to share a few of those magical moments with you...

We took a tour of the Superdome, home to many great sporting events before and since, and were impressed by the enormous size of the place. They were cleaning up from a home improvement show of some sort, and as we walked to the top of the building the tractor-trailers on the floor looked liked ants.  We tried to imagine what it would be like to watch a football game from that height, and decided that TV was a MUCH better option. Walking to the top row was scary. The stairs were so steep, and we were out of breath by the time we got there. Years later, when Hurricane Katrina devastated the city and building, I could not get that image out of my mind.

We also decided that we wanted to pay a visit to the New Orleans Jazz Museum.  Being 19-21 year olds, we were ill-prepared to do sight-seeing, but we found a map at the motel we stayed at and set out on an adventure. The museum was on Rampart Street. I have forgotten many details of that trip, but I will never forget that street name.  We found Rampart Street and began searching for the address listed for the museum. We drove the full length of the street, and then back again.  We searched every street number and turned around and searched again.  This went on for a very long time- and we NEVER found that stinking jazz museum.  This would be the first of many tourist misadventures during May, 1979.  Remind me to tell you the story of the Grand Canyon, malted milk balls and warm root beer someday...

But my favorite story from New Orleans has always been the tale of The Ash Tray Kid.  We were there in early May, but the weather was very summer-like.  The temps were in the high 80s during the day, and the humidity was just awful.  On our last night we were turning in early, preparing for the long drive to San Antonio the following day.  As part of a rotating system, Alan and I were sharing a bed and Carl had one to himself.  The air conditioning was set on cool as we tried to fight the smothering humidity and heat. Carl's bed was closest to the AC unit, which was a bad mistake.  At some point during the night, he got cold and tried to turn off the AC.  It was dark, and so (as he would confess to us the next morning) he just started pushing buttons until he felt warm air.  Alan and I awoke in pools of our own sweat trying to discern what had happened to us.  It seems that Carl had turned on the low heat and opened up the event to let in the 1000% humidity!  As we sorted out the disaster, Carl refused to wake, comfy as he was wrapped in his blanket.  So after a few attempts using conventional methods, Alan grabbed the glass ash tray on the table between the beds- and threw it at him!  This woke him up and made him mad- but not nearly as mad as we were for him trying to kill us with heat! We eventually laughed about it all, and we tried to saddle Carl with the nickname The Ash Tray Kid. Sadly, it never caught on...

We did other things while in New Orleans, including a strange and embarrassing night spent wandering the French Quarter.  It was the start to a very memorable trip. I would have loved to have stayed and found that jazz museum, but we were on a schedule. We needed to get to Texas so we could set up out tent in some poison ivy. But that's a story for another day...  

Happy Super Bowl Week!