Our Happy, Horrific, New Orleans New Year (part 1 of 3)
The whole bittersweet story.
As a writer, I’ve struggled with how to tell this story. To focus on the travel, food, the Sugar Bowl game, and Notre Dame win, seems disrespectful to those who lost their lives on New Year’s Day. But to focus only on the terrorist attack gives the evildoer a victory—allowing him to steal not only those lives, but also the joy of our lives, and the spirit of New Orleans that we saw bursting out in music, art, dance, food, and community throughout the city.
Yes, we bore witness to tragedy. We also bore witness to love and joy, security and celebration. As with all of life, the beautiful and the terrible coexist. Light and darkness blend at dawn and dusk. The sweetness of sugar and the bitterness of coffee together awaken our senses.
If life wasn’t so darn good, losing a life wouldn’t hurt like it does.
So here is the story—the whole bittersweet story, from my perspective—of our happy, horrific, New Orleans New Year. (I’ve included links to restaurants, bands, and our hotel, for those who might want travel recommendations for NOLA.)
Wednesday, December 25, 2024
On Christmas night, my husband Tom—who works at the University of Notre Dame—received an email offering him two free tickets to the Sugar Bowl game in New Orleans, to watch the Fighting Irish. After a big “Woohoo!” I said, “Let’s do it! After all, YOLO!”
We have never been to a bowl game, though we watch several every year. And Tom had never been to New Orleans, Louisiana (a.k.a NOLA). Jared—our oldest and our family’s only Notre Dame alum—jumped at the chance to join us. He went online and ordered two tickets for him and our youngest, Chloe (who had also never been to NOLA).
Thursday-Sunday, December 26-29
With tickets in hand, it seemed meant to be. But we had a few hurdles to jump before the spontaneous trip fell into place. Flights were expensive, so we would drive, stopping for a night halfway, at our relatives’ home in Nashville. I booked a boutique hotel in the French Quarter with travel points we’d been saving up for nothing in particular.
Then, on the 26th, Jared came down with COVID, followed by Tom and then me on the 28th. We made an early Sunday morning visit to urgent care to get the COVID anti-viral med, Paxlovid, and we were on our way.
Adding to our worries, Tom’s mom was hospitalized with pneumonia after Christmas. She was having heart rhythm irregularities, and we later found out she and two of his siblings also had COVID (a total coincidence, as we had not been with them).
In retrospect, it’s amazing everything worked out. Our symptoms subsided quickly with the meds, and Chloe escaped the virus. Tom’s mom moved on to rehab a week later and continued to gain strength.
As it turns out, these hurdles were pretty insignificant compared to the unexpected events to come.
Monday, December 30
After two days—about 14 hours—of driving, we finally arrived in New Orleans around 7:00 pm. We checked into our room at Hotel St. Pierre on the corner of Dumaine and Burgundy streets, just two blocks south of Bourbon Street, where our good times began. The famous street was bustling with tourists and locals, taking in the party vibe, catching mardi-gras colored beads hurled down from a hotel balcony, and drinking hurricanes. As we strolled the street—blocked off to vehicle traffic—we picked up the sounds of jazz, swing, and rock coming from live bands in the various eating and drinking establishments.
Although there were hordes of people, I commented on how safe I felt due to the huge police presence. I said something to the effect that “an attack like the one that happened recently in Germany isn’t likely to happen here because New Orleans is used to big, crazy celebrations.” Who knew it was an eerie premonition of things to come?
We chose Rex House Kitchen & Courtyard on Bourbon Street for our first Cajun/Creole meal and enjoyed jambalaya and gumbo deliciousness. Sitting in the back courtyard separated us from the party atmosphere on the street, and we chatted about our plans for the next few days. After dinner, we continued along Bourbon until we reached Canal Street, a large beautiful avenue lined with palm trees wrapped in tiny white lights for the holidays. On the corner of Bourbon and Canal, Chloe ran into Walgreens to look for some shampoo while we stood on the corner watching the cars go by. We could have never imagined the horror to come on this very corner.
Back on Bourbon Street, we tapped our toes to live music at Tipsy Trumpet. The band of four featured “Maddie Pebble” on bass guitar, who said she was from South Bend (IN), raising cheers from a couple of tables, including ours.
After two days of driving and an evening of food and frivolity, we headed back to the hotel, ready for a good night’s sleep.
