My drive from New Orleans, LA to Jacksonville, FL was shared with a street artist from the French Quarter. Looking a bit like Johnny Depp my driving partner was a musician who often played Folk music and was gathering together a new band. During the drive he introduced me to authentic gypsy music, New Orleans folk music and clown folk music. I really loved the Gypsy music. The band used a combination of violins, washboard bass (I believe it was called) and cellos.

Driving five hours consistently is not really a problem. Driving eight hours after getting only five hours of sleep after six hours of driving from Houston to New Orleans is a problem. Street artist and I took turns being tired and driving throughout the drive. As we came closer and closer to the Florida state line, I felt driving fatigue getting heavier and heavier. However, I wanted to cross the Florida boarder behind the wheel. This was my goal it was what I have been dreaming of for the last year and a half.

The street artist and I watched closely as the mile markers brought us closer and closer to the state line and as soon I crossed that line he gave a yell of triumph for me. We pulled over at the next rest area into Florida where I promptly took the cheezy Welcome to Florida picture. Than I let him take over driving while I slept for three hours and into Jacksonville, Florida.

During the drive, we talked about music, we talked about politics, we talked about New Orleans and we talked about today’s world. There is a new wave of hobos that are both business intelligent and street smart. There are so many things I would love to tell people about. Things that give me hope for the future by the younger generation, but to do so would potentially cause them harm. But know that a movement is indeed underway and one that grows more intelligent utilizing both street smarts and brain smarts with little or no Big Brother involvement… Good for them I wish them well and hope the league of extraordinary street artists continues to grow.

 

New Orleans is not crazy once a year. They are in fact crazy year round. Mardi gras simply allows them to project a year's worth of craziness in the open streets instead of through their cars. Normally I can't stand to drive in the right slow lane of the highway unless I am exiting soon or just very tired. In New Orleans I drove in no other lane but the right lane.

The speed limit in New Orleans  is indeed a limit but it is not the maximum speed to drive -- it is the minimum speed you are to drive. Driving anything less than ten miles above the posted speed limit announces you are a New Orleans foreigner and you quickly get nasty stares and honked horns. However I do believe I have figured out how to drive New Orleans – it's all based on your age.

Twenties

If you are in your 20's you drive no less than 80 to 90 miles per hour on the freeways. The highway emergency parking area is an additional lane to use when the driver in the right slow lane is driving the obnoxious posted speed limit. In the city, yellow lights have no meaning while red lights mean caution proceed with caution.

 Thirties

If you are in your thirties you give up the banged up duck taped Toyota or almost spotless muscle car for something that appears more reasonable that has some hidden muscles under the hood. As we all know that with age we sometimes tend to slow down and this is as true when driving in New Orleans.
 
With the more reasonable car that still has muscle you slow down to 80 or 85 miles per hour on the freeways (speed limit is 70 mph) and the yellow lights in the city are a nuisance. But a nuisance that provides a break from driving so that one can apply make up, jot down notes in the office car station and any other task that requires two eyes and two hands.

 Forties

The old age of driving in New Orleans. Once you hit your forties it's time to drive just above the speed and occasionally faster than that when you’re late. The only real difference in driving between your thirties and forties is that in your forties you use your turn signal – which in your twenties and thirties is a place to hang your ponytail bands if you’re a women and a mysterious handle that does something but you’re not sure what for guys. 

Yield

Yields in New Orleans are funny things and often confused me. When I see a Yield sign in any other state I normally take that to mean that I must be cautious to on coming cars. However in New Orleans
(according to your age) a Yield sign means it either does not exist

(20's & most 30's) or it means Stop. Yield signs are plentiful in the suburbs of New Orleans and depending on the age of the driver I was either honked at for yielding or an on coming car would completely stop to allow me to enter the street or make my left hand turn.
 
Anther thing that threw me off was the fact that taxis are black and white while police cars are blue and white.

 Walking in In downtown

New   Orleans light signals mean nothing other than some pretty hand and people lights that blink. Everyone walks with and against the light. Police are located throughout the downtown area and on every block and think nothing of pedestrians walking against the red. If by chance a walker is caught by a car walking against the light the customary greeting is a either two long single honks or three short ones.

 After getting lost in both the suburbs and downtown area I finally went into the mall just to feel a bit more normal – yea me in a mall – something I rarely ever enter. I approached the guest counter for directions when I noticed the gentleman next to me was a New Orleans police officer. Being a bit frazzled with New Orleans driving I just couldn't help myself and asked him a rather blunt question.

Me: You’re a police officer?  (it was more of a statement than a question)

NOL Police: Yes mam

(NOTE) Really cute accent to match a rather cute officer

Me: I have a question for you. Do you have to take crack to drive in New Orleans?

NOL Police:  No, Meth

Me: Alrighty than.

 {We both laugh}

This was pretty funny as I related how the first thing I noticed about New Orleans was the fact the speed limit was in fact the minimum speed not the maximum speed you drive. He admitted that driving in New Orleans was crazy and definitely very defensive. 

Always have a map

The morning after I arrived I was starving from trying to find my place to stay for the night and driving through some of the worst areas of the suburbs of New Orleans. The effects of the hurricane is still very present and many of the buildings I saw were abandoned, boarded up or looked as if they should have been torn down. I'm a pretty tough cookie but some of the areas I drove through where the flood had done the most damage had me checking my car door locks a few times. There is no logical sense to how the streets are mapped out anywhere in New Orleans. Whether you are in the downtown area or in the suburbs.  New Orleans is the one city where you should not play Get Lost. It is the one city in all the cities I have ever been to including Chicago where a map is an absolutely a requirement and there are no exceptions to this rule. A search for a pair of cheap hand mittens to ward off the morning chill had me driving ten miles someplace else. Frustrated I finally stopped for breakfast at some donut looking joint. However, it was in fact a small donut joint that had been converted into a very small diner and the place where I tried grits for the first time.

A breakfast first

Donuts are secondary items to a basic menu of breakfast and lunch items. To the right is a small area where anyone can come into play video legal poker but the signs posted make it known you must be 21 to enter this closet area. The donut cases had been replaced with counter tops and the cook sported a wife beater that I only thought existed on the television show Alice. In fact he could have been the inspiration for Mel if he wasn’t about the same age as me. Before breakfast arrived I was talking with an older gent who was retired from the Navy and had done a bit of traveling himself. He told me of how when he was in Seattle they warned him about the injins “that was back in 64 and we all just went straight to base.”

I ordered a ham, scrambled eggs and toast meal – I got ham, scrambled eggs and toast and grits. I've never seen grits so when she placed the large plat in front of me with a big bowl of white stuff I just looked at it. The waitress noticed I had not taken a bite and asked me if I don't like grits. I admitted I hadn’t see or eaten grits before. The truck driver became animated and started cheerfully telling the waitress whom he knew very well “take a picture! Take a picture of her eating grits for the first time!” I didn't have my camera with me.  

After breakfast ‘Mel’ was in the back (the kitchen) and picked up his two handled electric guitar for some improvised music practice… which was hinted that it was probably for my benefit. I smiled nicely and let them know “I’m not single.” Oh Darn! What a catch I missed. 

 By the way, crawdads are not pronounced crawdads by most people in the south. The truck driver gave me the only correct way to cook them and a long list of other names they are known by such as bottom feeders and mud crawlers.
 
WiFi = Why what?
 
Trying to find wifi in New Orleans is a challenge. Some of the smaller cities I had been through had more available service than most places in NOL.

I wish I had more time to spend in New Orleans. Because it was Christmas Eve a lot of the businesses were closed. The French quarter hasn't been spoiled by national or international chains. The businesses and artists have remained local and full of art, food and music. However parking in New Orleans in expensive and a good pair of walking shoes is needed to see it all.
 

I'm sitting in Barnes & Noble cafe and was talking to a senior citizen geek (how cool is that?!) -- showing him my Eee PC. We got to talking and his wife asked me why I was traveling. I told her when I was a kid I use to tag along on a few of my dad's golf championship tours. The traveling bug bit nd I developed this crazy fantasy of traveling the US and seeing every US state I could. She asked me what his name was and she knows of him!!! A women half way across he states knows of my dad. She followed his career along with a couple of other amature golfers. WOW!
 

The drive between Tucson, AZ and Las Cruces, NM is long or at least it seems like it is at night. The good thing about driving the 10 at night from Tucson to Las Cruces is that it gives you a lot of time to think, ponder and just let your mind wonder. But this is not always a good thing. Several times I went from questioning my decision in driving from west coast to east coast to knowing this is what I was supposed to do and at least once I considered turning around – just once.


Driving five hours through open desert lined with small dirt hills created a strange kind of calm. I was accompanied by several other cars on the road – any where from a few seconds behind or in front of me or by half a mile in either direction... and just like any good comedy sketch I turned a bend to see an animal of some kind sitting in the middle of the road in my lane, of course.


With only a split second to react and knowing the danger of trying to avoid hitting the poor dumb animal I slightly jerked my car to the right in a crazy hope that the animal would simply duck and be perfectly unharmed as my car barreled over the animal and would say in his own animal language, “shit! that was close!” ...and run away never to do it again. The problem with this little fantasy was

1)I heard a thump

2) A big rig was less than ten seconds behind me.


As my heart beat fast I hoped and bread that thump was just a smack to his head that said “Wake Up!” but I don't think so... I hope so though. I pulled over at the next rest stop and hesitantly looked under my car -- no animal parts and no sigs of anything that could have come from an animal. Maybe?


There is a real danger in what I did – trying to avoid hitting a poor dumb animal. For why the Hell do they sit in the middle of the road if they were not dumb? The truth is that you should never try to jerk your car to the side because a driver could easily lose control of the car. Thankfully I was taught how to drive defensively and although I do know jerking the car was not what I was supposed to do, my conscious wouldn't allow me to not try to avoid killing him/her. So maybe we both got lucky. I think that incident took a bit more of my energy. Not too much longer I was just too tired to keep driving and crashed (not literally) at the next rest stop after checking for kibble & bits.


I pulled into the next rest stop and opened my door to a night full of desert chilliness. Even in the black of night the grounds were well kept and provided a great place to have an afternoon lunch. The bathrooms were clean and heated which was a nice touch for travelers. Now if they would have only added hot water in addition to freezing cold tap water.


Walking around to stretch my legs the night air lacked all the signs of a major city. The grounds were clean, the buildings had no graffiti and heaven had poured a basin of stars across the sky. Unfortunately, I was just too tired to enjoy the air, I slipped into the back of my car and quickly fell asleep under my burner jacket and three blankets.