A few years ago, a friend and I, with a little extra time and cash on hand, decided we’d take a trip to New Orleans.  It was a place I’d never been and had passed up a trip to it almost ten years before that, so I was ready to go.  We made reservations at a hotel near the French Quarter, for the day after Christmas and then several days afterwards, leading up to New Year’s.  Prices for a hotel on Boxing Day, December 26th are extremely reasonable; however, they double and triple once you hit the day before New Year’s.  We were going to travel separately, and, because I didn’t have a family, I decided to travel on Christmas Day and arrive first.  I was hoping I’d arrive in time to take in a Christmas Mass in New Orleans, but trouble started when my flight stopped in Houston and an ice storm swept over the area, forcing me to interrupt my trip and stay at a nearby airport hotel.

Living in the Southwest for most of my life, I never thought I’d be one of those people who faced the prospect of staying overnight in a crowded terminal, desperately hoping to catch the next flight, but when they made the announcement that the flights were cancelled, I knew that was exactly what might happen if I couldn’t get a reservation.  Fortunately, an airline representative took pity on me and helped me out with a voucher, so the stay happened to be free.  But I would have paid for the quality room and the convenience.  It was already ten in the evening by the time we reached the hotel, and all the passengers had to be back at six thirty a.m., for the half hour or so flight to New Orleans.  That meant we had to return around four-thirty a.m., because we were all on stand-by.  I was really grateful the hotel was so close to the terminal a few hours later!

Once we were onboard and the plane was de-iced, we took off for New Orleans and it felt as if we landed almost before I had the chance to fasten my seatbelt.  Turned out that my friend’s flight was delayed, too, and that he had the reservations for the hotel, which meant I had to kill several hours wandering the streets of the French Quarter.  Even though it was a cold day, I was freshly rested, had a coat and a book and a new city to explore.  I started off to Jackson Square first.  I didn’t mind at all.