A Mother and her Teenaged Daughter
Take a Trip to New Orleans
"I hope this is worth it," my 17-year old daughter Laura grumbled,
as she tried in vain to stuff two pillows, a CD player, an English textbook,
and a bottle of water into her carry-on bag. I sighed. "I hope so too,"
I thought, and sent up a silent prayer for a successful trip. Ready or not,
New Orleans, here we come!
We were about to embark on what I hoped would be a bonding experience
that Laura would take with her as she left for college and, eventually,
a life of her own without me. The past year has been a rocky one, filled
with college searches, boyfriend issues, and the daily crises that define
what it is to be a teenager in today's complicated world. A coworker had
advised me, after taking a trip with her teenaged daughter, that the key
to success was to simply do whatever her daughter wanted, whenever she wanted
to do it. Turns out this was harder than I thought.
After checking into our hotel, we headed out to Bourbon Street for a
late dinner. I resisted the urge to tell Laura that her choice of patched
jeans and flip-flops might limit our choice of restaurant, and found as
we entered the French Quarter that she had been right to insist on "dressing
down." Score one for Laura. A fragile détente was reached as
we united in search of food. The need for food, I quickly found out, was
something we could agree on. We marveled at the unfamiliar sights and sounds
of the French Quarter, rejected several places that looked a bit too intense
for the uninitiated, and settled on a seafood restaurant that looked just
bohemian enough, but not too scary. We sampled blackened redfish and the
local seasonal specialty, crawfish, and agreed that it was delicious. Our
hunger satisfied, we headed back to the hotel to plan the next day.
Remembering my friend's words, I let Laura sleep in the next morning,
even though I was eager to get started - after all, we only had two days!
But I headed to the lobby for the free coffee, visited the concierge for
information, and explored the hotel. At 10:00, we seated ourselves for breakfast
in the hotel dining room, only to find that Brunch was the only option,
at the staggering price of $32.95 per person! "Laura," I whispered,
"we'll just put down our menus and quietly leave." Her expression
said it all - Oh, the embarrassment! We finally made our way to the Café
Du Monde for the quintessential French Quarter breakfast of beignets and
coffee for about $5.00. The jazz musicians in front of the Café delighted
us both, but I embarrassed my daughter yet again by buying their CD. Once
inside, however, the reality of where we were hit us all at once. "Mom!"
she said, "We're in New Orleans!"
The street musicians were everywhere. We took a break from shopping to
sit on the curb, soak up the sun, and listen to amazing jazz, a cappella
quartets, and bluegrass bands. One thing that Laura and I share is a love
of music of all kinds. One look at her face and I knew this was cool enough
for both of us. We went on a Ghost Tour that night (Laura's choice), with
a small group of adults, and enjoyed the stories of haunted houses and gruesome
occurrences in New Orleans history. Afterward, we watched old episodes of
"Seinfeld" in our hotel room.
On our last full day, I had booked a swamp boat tour in the afternoon,
thinking that we should see some of the local landscape besides Bourbon
Street. I wasn't sure Laura would share my enthusiasm for local color, but
it was my turn to choose the agenda. Before we left on the tour, we decided
to go back to the French Quarter for a final search for souvenirs for her
friends. We headed to the French Market, an historic flea market with lots
of bargains and local specialties. We bought pralines, Mardi Gras masks,
and postcards for every one of her numerous friends back home. And we spent
an hour or more trying on Indian dresses behind a flimsy curtain in the
open air, until we each found one that was perfect.
As we cruised the swamps that afternoon in search of alligators and snakes,
I couldn't tell if Laura was enjoying herself or not. It was chilly, and
we hadn't brought jackets. Unfortunately, the tour guide, although incredibly
knowledgeable about local flora and fauna, was not able to spot the 'gators
we had expected. Later that night, though, when I asked her what her favorite
parts of the trip had been, Laura included the swamps in her list.
At the conclusion of the trip we headed back to the hotel to get ready
for our last evening's dinner. I had made reservations at a restaurant I
had seen written up in the Travel section of our local paper. I knew it
would be expensive, but thought that whatever we did had to be special;
this was the culmination of our adventure. Dinner lived up to our expectations.
There were so many utensils, even I didn't know which ones to use for what,
and the food was extravagant, exotic, and excellent. The waitress asked
Laura if she'd care for a cocktail, and as she politely declined, I knew
that she felt as grown up as she really was going to be very soon.
We were quiet on the flight home, tired and happy, thinking our individual
thoughts about our experience. When we got home, we sat in the car in front
of the house for a minute. Laura turned to me and said, "Thanks, Mom."
As usual, I had to read between the lines. That's my daughter.
Susan Smith lives in New Cumberland, PA. She is the mother of three
and is facing the empty nest phase of her life with all the grace she can
muster.
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