Lons Road Trip: Jazz and Heritage Fest

I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but this trip was another one of those ‘must do’ events where we had no clue what was going to happen. Seems to be a theme with Rick and me. If you’ll remember, we went to the Crossroads Fest in Chicago where we picked up the tickets he bought on e-bay, at a sports bar between here and Chicago.

I’m not real sure if it’s our spontaneous nature, or the lack of willingness for either us to plan anything, but we never really know what’s going to happen along the way and often times where we are going. The only given is that every ride that leads us out of the state ends at the Ramblin Rose. The Rose is a watering hole that is exactly half way between Rick’s house and mine (if I mention that Rick and I live about 5 miles apart, you get the idea why the Rose falls into a lot of equations).

Alright, time to get to the point. This trip was to N’awlins for the Jazz and Heritage Festival. I was fortunate enough to be taken to this fest from Chicago by Al and Paul many, many years ago, and have been there 3 or 4 times since. There’s more than a half dozen stages and tents with continuous music ranging from Gospel and Blues to the Congo Stage with reggae. Throw in food and art vendors and of course the music around the city during the night, and you have 10 days of over indulgence. We would only be there for four days, which would prove to be plenty enough.

I left Dallas on Thursday on the Valk, taking back roads to Baton Rouge. LA and catching a blues jam at Phil Brady’s Bar and Grill that night. On Friday I rode into N.O., grabbed a po’boy in the French Quarter and then ventured out to the fair grounds to see if I could find a safe place to park the bike. Keep in mind that I had all my clothes, etc, for the weekend packed on the bike. Since Rick wasn’t coming into town till later that night, I had no place to stash my stuff. As a matter of fact, I had no clue where we were going to stay. I wasn’t even sure if Rick knew where we were going to stay. All I did know was that Rick would show up, some time.

This story will be long enough without me going into all the details of how I found a (relatively safe) spot to park, but meet Margaret along with her friends. We parked in front of her porch each day of the festival (which was across the street from the entrance to the fest!). After the initial night, we were greeted each morning with reserved parking, a cooler full of cold beverages, a chance to purchase rain ponchos (it rained HARD on Friday) and even the opportunity for tickets to the fest (this came in very handy on Sunday). Each evening after the festival, we returned to our well guarded bikes, a porch full of people, homemade hot tamales and the ever popular cooler full of beverages. Ok, to be fair, there were many coolers with a variety of beverages only rivaled by a well stocked 7-11. We met people from out of town/state that come to "Margaret's Porch" every year during the fest for the fun and friendship. They were gracious hosts, including inviting us in so we could change from our festival attire (shorts and sandals) to riding attire (jeans and boots). Okay, maybe she just didn't want us changing in the street in front of her house, but by the second night she'd just point and say "you know where the bathroom is".

But this trip wasn’t about the parking. It was about the Fest, and what a great fest it was. There were a lot of musicians there. Frankly, I’m getting tired of telling you who’s at these evetnts. You really need to start showing up yourself. Your next opportunity is June 5-8, when I’ll be in Chicago for the Blues Fest. So, come on down. But, as I was saying, lots of good music. I have to be honest, among Stevie Wonder, Carlos Santana, Marsha Ball, Sonny Landreth and of course the Neville Brothers, my favorite performance came in from Ruthie Foster from Austin, TX. Not only did she have guests performing on stage with her from the Gospel Stage, she also sang an A Capella song so sweet it would make you tell a movie star to shut up (okay, in my defense, I didn’t know she was an actress when I told her to shut up).

The best “moment” of the fest was meeting a young lady while watching, I think, Jimmy Buffett. It wasn’t the performance that touched me, but rather the message I received while sharing just a few words with Addi (course I told her I’d change her name if I write about her, so if you see a future story about someone not called Addi, you’ll know its about her). Anyway, one of the things I really like about blues and jazz type festivals is that everyone is so welcoming and friendly. There’s just a great feeling and vibe in the air.

The following picture is a pretty good indication of the type of values you find in the people at the festival. This picture was taken on the second Saturday of the festival, which coincidentally is also the busiest day of the festival. You have to admire a business-person that holds to their values above riches.

We made it a point to stop by on Sunday to show our support with the purchase of a couple…few…many pies. We highly recommend Mr. Williams pies and will make this a regular stop during all future fests.

Alright, so on to the adventure. Remember, I got in Friday morning and Rick was still in Minneapolis on Friday morning. I spent the day listening to music and enjoying the energy, having no clue where I was going to sleep and not being too concerned with it. Rick spent the day flying to Dallas, prepping his bike and then riding it the entire 400 and something miles into N’awlins! While sittin on Margaret’s porch eating tamales that evening, I get a call from Rick telling me he’s “an hour out” and to meet him at The Corporation, which is apparently New Orleans’s answer to the Ramblin Rose. (This next part is true) – Rick tells me that its near the Convention Center, and when (if) I find the Convention Center, try to call his buddy Willie to see if he knows what street its on. Seems Rick knows how to get there, but has no clue how to tell me how to get there! So, sensing an adventure, I get crude directions to the Convention Center from one of Margaret’s porch partiers (I think he was from Houston, but he spoke with such assuredness that I believed him) and headed off into the night. Sometime later I was surprised and quite proud of myself when I realized I was rolling down the street…with the Convention Center covering the three city blocks to my left! Well, that was easy. Now its time to find The Corp. I started scoping side streets, knowing that Rick was not sending me to a fern bar in the properly lighted section of town. After a couple turns, and as I came to a screeching halt to avoid running over a couple of kids on their way to their prom, The Corp made its appearance on my left. AND, between the bumper of a pick-up truck and the “No Parking Here to Corner” sign, there was room for my bike! (Okay, considering the shape the pick-up was in, I wasn’t too worried about it running long enough to run into my bike, so I knew it was safe to park there.)

Now, this is where it gets good (I know, its been good all along, but just like with life, things just keep getting better). Not even half a beer after I get there (without having to call Willie, I’d like to remind you!), Rick comes pulling in. Seems he got to spend the last hour or two riding in the driving rain, but he pulled in on time and in good spirits. And when he called his friends, who it turns out were setting up a show at the Convention Center, they were just walking out the door and were on their way to the Corp! Everything just fell into place! This is when I found out that one of the guys coming over was Willie and that we were going to follow him home and that’s where we were staying for the weekend. An escorted ride home! What more could you ask for? Well, a home cooked meal, that’s what! After a couple beers at the Corp we followed Willie on what would otherwise have been a nightmare ride thru some washed out neighborhoods (remember, they're still rebuilding from Katrina) and cool old cemeteries to Willie's house, where he wasted no time pointing out (yet another) cooler full of beverages and started cooking!

THIS was to be the purpose of the weekend. Not the cooler full of beverages or closed pie stands or music from international stars, but time spent with good friends. As it turned out, each evening after the fest was spent with Willie, Abe, cousins and other friends. Talk about a feeling of welcoming and love. I’m sorry I didn’t get more pictures of the families and friends I met, but this one of Willie, Abe and Rick (left to right) and 2 of the 3 killer dogs kinda gives a sense of the hospitality we experienced.

Like Crossroads, the Jazz Fest is another event that will only be missed in the future due to a wedding or funeral. Yeah, I thought the wedding part was pretty funny too.

Here's a picture of the bikes parked in front of Willie's house. Not too shabby, eh?