Nashville to New Orleans

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Whoever the Greek god of interstates would be, he's happy at the moment

Now I'm in New Orleans. Not only was it the most uneventful drive on the US Interstate system I've ever taken, it was the easiest one I've ever heard of. If you've ever gone more than a hundred miles on I-Anything, the most vivid memory you probably have is the color orange. Orange cones, orange barrels, and orange signs. Slow or barely moving workers in orange vests, orange hardhats, and waving orange flags at you. Every state in the US claims the orange cone is their state tree, the hot planer is their state animal, and "slow construction zone" their state motto. Not this time. Not one holdup for construction, not one lane closing accident, not even any bad weather. The travel gods must be happy or sleeping.

Nashville to New Orleans is a pretty straightforward run: Geographically speaking, you pass through the last rolling hills of the Highland Rim until it flattens out into the Cumberland Plateau and then slopes down to meet the Gulf Coast plain. Sounds nice when you put it that way, but it really just means take I-65 South to Birmingham and turn left just North of the city, changing onto I-59/20 headed South/West. You pass through Huntsville (see "Home from Jacksonville, 21Jan2009) and not much else.

While you're in Upper Alabama, if you happen to have a little time, keep an eye out near Cullman for Ave Maria Grotto to see the most remarkable and unlikely sight on the whole trip: the life long work of Brother Zoettl,a Benedictine Monk from Bavaria who spent 40 years at a monastery in Cullman, Alabama. Brother Zoettl spent his spare time (Benedictine monks have little else but time) building miniatures of the most famous buildings and cityscapes in the world out of marble shards, broken bits of glass, and whatever he could get his hands on. I won't attempt to describe it, but check out www.avemariagrotto.com if you're having a hard time believing this.

Once on 20/59 past Bessemer, relax for a bit, there's very little between Birmingham and Tuscaloosa (there is a certain University there which I will not pause to mention). From Tuscaloosa to Meridian, there's nothing at all. Meridian, Mississippi is probably the accidental result of the breadth of the North American continent and the limitations of the railroad. Between Atlanta and New Orleans, the train had to stop somewhere, and Meridian is pretty much half way. Vaudeville shows wanted to play in Atlanta and New Orleans, and had to do something during a layover in the middle of rural Mississippi, hence the Hamasa Shrine Temple Theater, a 1920's Ottoman-revival venue with a massive pipe organ. Vaudeville died, and so did much of the entertainment in Meridian.

West of there, 20 and 59 diverge and you take 59 South towards Hattiesburg. It's always dark at this point and all you can see is endless rows of pine trees in silhouette. Here you see the first sign that says "New Orleans" and you are close to The Delta.

David Cone, writing in 1935, explained that "The Delta begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel..." He was speaking of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, the one with the ducks that live on the roof and use the elevator each day to come down to the lobby and bathe in the fountain. Their daily appearance is treated with some ceremony and, ever since it started, one of the staff members of the hotel has been designated as "duck master." Mr. Cone has fixed the Northern extremity of The Delta. Its other boundaries, however, remain as indistinct and shifting as the track of the great river that created it in the first place. It is roughly the Northwest corner of Mississippi, but that's about the most certain thing I can tell you because it isn't really a geographic region as much as it is a cultural one. Delta natives proudly claim this as the birthplace of The Blues, and they may be right. There is a Blues Trail along Highway 61 (see www.msbluestrail.org) where you can travel and listen and make up your mind for yourself .

The most conspicuous feature of the modern Delta is the casinos. For reasons having to do with Mississippi law (or rather the precise wording of Mississippi law), they call them "riverboats," but if you look closely these "boats" are mostly stationary barges sitting in artificial canals dug out for the purpose. This is arranged so that, technically, there's no gambling on "Mississippi soil." It all takes place on water, you see; not on soil. See the difference? Nonsensical distinction? Probably, but it boosts the value of property along the river and the gulf coast. Unless you are a member of the Band of Mississippi Choctaw Indians, in which case you can build your casino on tribal lands regardless of the presence of water because, once again technically, this is not Mississippi soil. You see?

This is all besides the point. I'm not headed for The Delta on this occasion, I'm taking I-59 South until it merges with I-10 and crosses Lake Pontchartrain causeway bridge, straight through New Orleans, and getting off at the Canal Street exit. This should really be in the past tense, actually. As I'm typing, I'm already there in a brand new hostel called the AAE Bourbon on the verge of The Garden District. I've already walked down the street to have an Abita and a crawfish pie at the Avenue Pub on St. Charles, and am about to close my laptop and fall asleep in the top bunk by the window to the sound of the rain that is just starting to come down. Glad it waited.

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Photos

Goodbye Broadway 1
North side of Broadway from the balcony of Big Bang Piano Bar. It's 9:00 PM and the lines for The Stage, Tootsie's, and Legends' Corner are starting to form.

Goodbye Broadway 2
Same view from street level an hour later. The lines have merged into one general mob.

Goodbye Broadway 3
Broadway from outside Paradise Park looking East toward the river.

Goodbye Broadway 4
Paradise Park, a theme bar. The theme is trailer park, genius because the shabbier it gets, the more authentic. Don't miss the Wall of Mullets.