Before we left for New Orleans I did some research on events and musicians that would be there the same weekend we were. One event that I was excited about was White Linen Night, which is a gallery walk where everyone wears white linen and goes into galleries along a four block area on Julia Street. I brought along a special white outfit and George wore beige shorts and a white shirt. We had high expectations. It is a gallery walk that New Orleanians call a mid-summer party, and one that is supposed to bring people out in the slow days of summer.
We left our hotel about 7 p.m., even though White Linen Night started at 4:00 p.m. and lasted until 8 p.m. At 8:00 you needed to buy a ticket to attend the party with dancing afterward. I knew we were not up for that, but I thought that if we got there toward the tail end of the gallery walk, we would miss the crowds, find a nice place to sit and it would be cooler. Wrong.
We got off to the wrong foot, so to speak, when George said that we should walk there instead of taking a cab. He thought that it was about three blocks away from our hotel when it was actually more like nine blocks. That may not sound like much, but keep in mind that it was 90 degrees and the humidity is over 70%. Within one block I had started to drip. I had blisters from earlier walks, and I'm afraid I gave in to some kvetching and unladylike complaining.
When we got there I was already awash in sweat and unhappy, and there was a huge crowd! The galleries near us were so crowded you had to wait outside for awhile to get in the door. People were jamming into the buildings to get cool in the air conditioning, and viewing art was a low by-product. The crowds were so big that I saw the gallery owners and employees looking askance at everyone and they didn't look too happy to see us. Outside in the heat I saw people having drinks and talking with their friends and I was amazed that they could actually look happy when it was SO hot and uncomfortable! (You may notice in the photo above that two people are trying to make some shade by holding their square fans in front of their faces. They provided these fans as a souvenir, but we never found out where to get one, and they weren't going to help anyway.)
Not only did we not see any chairs or tables, we didn't see any food or drink tents either, and even walking a block through those crowds seems impossible.
While in one of the galleries I noticed a beautiful lady (I assume a New Orleanian, not a mere hot sweaty tourist like myself) beautifully dressed in expensive white linen and lace, with a lovely big hat and looking cool as a cucumber. I felt and looked like a limp rag. And I was getting madder by the minute.
We left that gallery and looked forlornly down the street to see if there was any relief or fun to be had anywhere. George was still trying to find something good in all this, because he knew how much I had looked forward to it. He was being gallant and nice and I was being a spoiled brat. Far from being a fun event, this had turned out to be a disaster for me, and all I wanted was a icy coke and some air conditioning.
Luckily, Mulates, the renowned Cajun restaurant, was two blocks away, and we marched in there and sat at the bar and ordered cokes and appetizers, mopped our faces with our handkerchiefs and waited to feel like human beings instead of rats drowning in our own sweat.
I knew New Orleans in the summer was going to be hot. I thought I was prepared for it. I packed my white clothes and my hats and was ready to join others who were not afraid of a little heat. But White Linen Night took the courage right out of me and left me whimpering for air conditioning.
Have a great day.
