After wrestling with days for a topic, once I had one it took more days to get it into writing. Thank goodness for the Watch Cheryl Scrap tonight! It was just enough of a distraction that I could type without thinking.
Between the 2 pages:
Rebecca McMeen Urban Instilled
Paula Kesselring Urban Blight
and Antique Papers 4
and Art in the Box
and Black and White Only
and Border Edge Transparencies
Just Jaimee Obsession paint
It's over 800 words, apologies, I, um, love rabbit trails? lol
Page 1
In 1984, I got to attend the American Nursing Association Convention in New Orleans with two other nurse/friends. I was determined to visit the local art museum. Our hotel was walking distance to the Riverwalk (if we didn't take the hotel's free shuttle) so said museum was pretty far away. It was my first time in New Orleans (boy did that river really really stink!). Also, no one had warned me about the humidity so my hair and body temp were both spectacular failures at social norms but I was having so much fun, I almost didn't care. (a minor miracle for me at that time)
So, I looked into my options - a taxi (well over 30 dollars one way) or using the city bus line (just a bit of money - can't remember how much). Now, at the time, there was someone running around killing tourist at all hours of the day. At least that is what local news was saying. We got a handout from the hotel saying things like - don't wear convention id in public, don't look like a tourist (very helpful info, lol). I was scared but being 6 foot tall in fairly good athletic shape and very very determined to see the museum, I double checked my bus route map and skipped some of the convention sessions.
No clue which ones or how many but I do remember being dismayed at how many of the educational sessions were about getting a Ph.D and/or being a "professional." I was mostly interested in Critical Care, disease process and the like. (never did want to be a head nurse or any kind of management. . . we had just gotten nurse anethestis (can't spell it) as a job option)
So, down to the lobby and out into the streets. I didn't ask the front desk about my route because I was shy (and independent). Just a short walk to a sign I had memorized and I was ready to hop on the bus. It came. . . belching (yes, I suddenly knew what authors meant when they used that term) fugly dense gray black smelly smelly smoke.
Slow, lurching, noisy and full of scary residents in all sorts of apparel (at least 2 looked homeless, several looked like maids, a scattering of scrub suits, some older women with bags, etc.) I was so scared, lol. I sat right behind the driver. Silly me. Everyone was sweating so I was in good company.
We rode for-ever! I couldn't really see street names and I suspect I began to panic a wee bit. I spotted a park with ?marble buildings in it coming up on the left. Museum was supposed to be on the left. OH! I just remembered, I did ask the driver to tell me when we hit the art museum. He never looked at me or said anything. We went past with at least one stop for the park. Last stop, park was ending so I hopped off. Figured the driver just forgot my request.
Page 2
Then I looked around. Um. It was not the best neighborhood. It probably wasn't the worst. In my state, it was surprising but I really wanted the museum. I began to walk confidently (that is what my memory says I had planned anyway, lol, no clue what it looked like).
I marched inside and about halfway towards the beginning of the park. I saw lots of folks passed out, openly drinking booze, alot of definitely homeless folks. My fear was palpable, however everyone (all male sigh) was older and not in very good physical shape. I decided to keep marching, exit at the far end and get back on a bus to somewhere safer.
Spied a N'Awlins policeman. He was almost my height, smiling ear to ear at folks and then frowning at me asked "where are you going, Miss White Lady?" (his skin was a midnight black and the smile he followed his question with was one of those older folks give to little kids - that what now combined with genuine warmth and usually a rueful shake of their head).
I totally relaxed and laughing with him asked which building was the art museum. Oh, I was still miles away. He warned me to go right back to where I got off the bus and get right on and ride it till it stopped to turn around. Then I could get out in the museum's parking lot. I was to meet bus number something, ride till I saw my hotel, behind the driver and not speak to anyone except at the museum and hotel.
I nodded, put my shoulders back and turned to march so very confidently back. I did not have egg on my face. I did not have any fear. I was exactly where I wanted to be. (or at least that was the thoughts racing in my head) No fear, never show fear.
It wasn't till I got back to the bus stop and turned around to face the street that I realized he had followed me (about 1/3 of a block back) and he stayed there till I was on the bus safely.
I regret only that I have no clue what his name was...or which precinct he was from...or if I thanked him properly. I was that scared, sigh.
