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Tour Journal Revisited
Edited by Michael Morrow "Amazing Grace, NOLA-Style"
by Mike MorrowBags are packed. It's 5 on Sunday, and my throat is scratchy from too many cigarettes and too much singing along at last night's Ani Difranco show in Madison. Too little sleep, this probably isn't a good idea. J tosses the road atlas into the back of the car and kisses his girlfriend goodbye. I grab a shopping bag full of Phish tapes and assorted mixes, add it to the pile of junk in the back seat and start the car. Time to go, we're going down to New Orleans.
Ten p.m., and we're rounding a corner of the Mississippi. J points out landmarks of his childhood, I make a cell phone call home to check in. Still alive, still a solid twelve hours to go before our vacation really begins.
Denny's dinner in St. Louis near eleven. J is getting a cold, and feels too groggy to drive. I'll take his shift, let him sleep, smoke more cigarettes, and drink more truckstop coffee. Idle chit-chat slows and J is asleep. I turn up 7/16/94 Sugarbush and watch for cops.
J is snoring, and I am thinking of the strange irony. Two weeks from now I'll be in the third row at the Horizon for Halloween...crap, I hope they don't play Thriller like everyone says on the net. But that's a long way off, I'm heading south to a city I've never seen, and Phish will be there too. Not that we'll be going.
New Orleans was a logical choice to party for fall break--booze, warm weather, different people, and a crazy melange of music to see. Of course, Medeski Martin & Wood/Phish was sold out when we called a week before the show, Bootsy Collins at the House of Blues was far too pricey, but at least we got tickets to see Al Hirt swing at some little club he owns--I'll try and get my dad an autograph.
Memphis and the river smells terrible that night. Straight shot south. Boring night drive. We debate tanking our plan and getting a hotel room for the night. Drive on.
Daylight breaks in southern Mississippi and I'm nearly delirious, sleepy. I pull out a Metallica tape to try and stay awake, but it just aggravates me and wakes up J. The McDonald's near the Louisiana border serves standard breakfast and crawfish.
J takes the wheel as we head into Louisiana, but first buys a Creedence Clearwater Revival tape at a truckstop for when we drive through the bayou. I'm exhausted, but now too excited to sleep; the terrain is finally different from my native midwest. Watery and unusual. We laugh nervously at the pickup bumper stickers with phrases like "Keep America Beautiful: Cut Your Hair" and "Impeach Clinton, and Her Husband Too."
Ten a.m., we're in New Orleans! We find the hotel, and oh, insult to injury: it's directly across the street from the State Palace Theater. Big words from the window taunt, "PHISH 7:00p.m." Oh well.
Monday we spend sleeping and drink ourselves sick that night. As the hours advance, the number of Phishheads trawling about the city double then triples. Tuesday mid-afternoon we have gorged ourselves on muffaletta sandwiches by the river and thrown dollar bills at an incredible street band, dancing along with Phishheads in town for the show. J is wearing a shirt from summer tour, and on the way back to the hotel for a nap, a woman with a clipboard stops us.
"Are you gentlemen from out of town? I'm Laura, with the New Orleans Tourism board, and I'm taking a short survey."
"Um, okay."
Laura with the New Orleans Tourism Board asks us where we're from, what we plan on doing, and proceeds to tell us how fantastic and amazing and fascinating the New Orleans aquarium is. Then she looks at J's shirt and asks if we're going to the concert that night.
"Well, we were thinking about watching the line form from our hotel window, but that's about it--sold out."
"Oh, did you try today? They said on the radio this morning that they were going to release some tickets at noon today."
J & I looked at each other, thanked Laura with the New Orleans Tourism Board and bolted down the street toward our room, laughing at our luck.
Hours later we are sardined at the will-call line then jamming with MMW & Phish in the smallest venue I'll ever see them play.
The first set closes with an acapella sing-along of "Amazing Grace." How sweet the sound. To this day I think of New Orleans as a place to expect the unexpected, where one minute you're lost and the other, you're found.
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