NOLA Trip: Taking the City of New Orleans to New Orleans (Part 2)
And picking up right where we left off...
March 20: The penultimate stretch
After the City of New Orleans left Jackson, I mostly focused on finishing up work, so I barely paused to take pictures. And at about noon, I went to get lunch. Well, to get a reservation. There were enough people looking to get lunch in a dining car that they had to spread people out a bit.
Usually, when Dining Car staff asks for reservation, you can sign up for a particular time slot. This time, it was more like "we'll have your name, and we'll call you when we have a spot." So I went back to the Lounge Car to wait and write some more.
It didn't actually take that long before I was called. I was seated with Connie and Reggie, a couple around my age who were actually coming from Chicago to attend a friend's wedding in New Orleans. Connie was actually originally from the area, and she's taken the City of New Orleans back and forth numerous times. Reggie was a native Chicagoan, and this was his first Amtrak train ride. He said he enjoyed it so far.
One thing that, I admit, distracted me a bit at first, was that Connie looked more than a bit like Shea Koshan. Same height, similar build, only slightly lighter skin tone, similar hairstyle, glasses, even some similarities in the facial structure. The only reason why I didn't ask if she happened to have a relative in Vancouver was because she looked different enough to rule out family resemblance.
I decided to order the only thing on the Dining Car lunch menu that wasn't some kind of a sandwich or a salad - mashed potatoes with turkey meatballs, tomato sauce and cheese. And a glass of cranberry juice. There used to be slightly more options, but we don't get them for the same reason as why we didn't get complimentary drinks - budget cuts.
At least we still get complimentary bread.
Just as Connie, Reggie and I started eating, the train pulled up to Brookhaven station.
Now, you're probably wondering - why does a train station have a smokestack? It's because the current station building was originally a municipal power plant. When the city decided to build a new station, they decided that rehabbing the by-then-abandoned building than trying to build a new one. So they basically gutted it, reused old benches from the city's older station (which has since been turned into a military museum), added bigger windows and torn down a few parts of the building. But they kept the smokestack as a nod to the building's original purpose, and it's a good thing they did, because it made Brookhaven station one of the most distinctive-looking train stations in United States.
Oh, and here's the shot of the city of Brookhaven itself.
Connie, Reggie and I had a pleasant chat, but after we paid for lunch, we all headed back to our corners. And I went back to work, occasionally pausing to get pictures like this.
Our next stop was McComb. The city owns its existence entirely to one of Illinois Central Railroad's predecessors, the New Orleans, Jackson and Great Northern Railroad. Owner Henry Simpson McComb wanted to move the railroad's maintenance facilities away from New Orleans, where he was concerned that this workers were tempted by gambling and prostitution.
Like many other places along the City of New Orleans, the city was a site of some pretty ugly, racist episodes during the 1950s-1960s Civil Rights era. Something which, in fairness, the city has been trying to make up for.
McComb's train station is a small, picturesque building that I wasn't able to get a good shot of.
Given the city history, it's not really surprising that McComb train station doubles as an Illinois Central Railroad museum.
As I kept working, the train left Mississippi and crossed into Louisiana.
It wasn't long before we arrived at our penultimate stop - Hammond. The city is home to Southern Louisiana University.
From what I understand, it's something of a Kenosha (or Michigan City) to New Orleans' Chicago - far enough away that it can't be considered a suburb, but close enough that some people do drive there to work (though most people work closer to home).
I've been told that many people from New Orleans area prefer to go to Hammond rather than the Crescent City to catch the train - the parking is cheaper and easier to find, and there's less traffic to deal with.
At the time, I didn't know that I would soon have a chance to explore the city a bit more... And, for the sake of foreshadowing, I'll leave it at that for now.
Shortly after we left Hammond, we passed through the Ponchatoula, a suburb of Hammond that bills itself as "America's Antique City"
And, as you might expect from a small town with that kind of name, it used to have a horrible dark secret. Seriously - that's a Stephen King horror story right there.
Riding past the 'gators
Ponchatoula was the last town we passed through before the City of New Orleans got to the part of the trip I was looking quite forward to - the vast marshes and swamps that stretched along the western edge of Lake Pontchartrain. Video and photos suggested a land unlike anything I've ever quite seen, and reality didn't disappoint.
We rode across two "passes" - I'm not entirely sure if they are proper rivers or parts of the lake that haven't turned to swamp, but they function like rivers.
The second pass, known as Pass Manchac - is lined with docks for boaters and fishermen.
Once we crossed Pass Manchac, the train made its way through a small settlement known as either Manchac or Akers (as far as I can tell, that depends on who you ask). Wikipedia says it started out as a British trade outpost, and that it used to have its own train station - but that was long ago.
Once we cleared Manchac/Akers, it was swampland again
A man who was sitting next to me (who introduced himself as Moody), said he spotted an alligator. I could easily believe him.
Around this point, we stopped to wait for the New Orleans-Chicago train to pass through. By that point, the City of New Orleans was running half an hour behind schedule, but I wasn't too worried. Behind me, a group of passengers that boarded at McComb - two women and one men not that much older than me - were talking about swamps and alligators when, suddenly, the northbound City of New Orleans whooshed right past us.
"Oh sweet Jesus!" the man cried out in the most stereotypically Southern way possible.
He screamed so loudly that it became an in-joke for the entire Lounge Car for the rest of the trip. Poor guy.
Eventually, swampland started to give way to water as Lake Pontchartrain came into view
Pantchartrain is no Great Lake, but it's still pretty impressively large
Then, suddenly, I saw something that almost made me cry out in surprise. A highway went above us and kept going beside us, above the lake.
When I told phoenix_anew and jaklocke about this, they basically shrugged. And why wouldn't they? They grew up here. How could I ever hope to explain why, to a long-time Chicagoan, seeing a highway going above freaking lakewater was so freaky.
It wasn't until I got back to Chicago and did my research that I realize that Lake Pantchartrain was fairly shallow by Chicago and St. Petersburg standards (its average depth is between 12-14 feet (about 3.7 -4.3 meters)), so putting highways above water wasn't as complicated as I thought. But still, part of me still boggles at the whole "someone put the highway over water" thing.
Now approaching New Orleans
Eventually, the highway went off in the other direction
And after going through a bit more swampland
We entered New Orleans' western suburbs.
Even after visiting it, I don't know nearly enough about the area to tell you where suburbs end and New Orleans begin. Or where one suburb ends and other begins, for that matter. So I'm just going to post some highlights of the pictures I took as we got closer and closer to Crescent City.
At about 3:20, we were told to head back to our seats. As I got up, I saw Connie moving to the back of the train as well. Like a proper Chicagoan who lived through at least one Windy City spring, she boarded the train dressed in layers, wearing tights and a long-sleeved top under her dress. Now, she wasn't wearing any layers, and she traded heavy boots for lighter, more comfortable shoes.
I've said many times that human lives would be so much easier if we learned to recognize foreshadowing.
We wished each other best of luck and headed back to our seats.
As I sat down, the conductor announced that we were actually close to the station, but it would take a few minutes for us to maneuver inside. I texted Angie to let her know.
"We'll probably be late," she texted back. "I didn't think there'd be too much traffic."
"Knowing the train delays, lets see which one of us makes it first," I texted back.
"You'll win," Angie responded after a few minutes. "I forgot something at home."
And here's the thing. Even though the train has been 15-30 minutes late throughout the entire trip, even though we stopped in the middle of a swamp to let a train go past us, despite the announcement - we still somehow managed to arrive at the New Orleans Union Terminal at 3:39 PM, only four minutes behind schedule.
Angie and Jak were, suffice to say, were nowhere near the station.
And so, I took a look at the City of New Orleans one last time.
And headed inside the New Orleans Union Terminal building.
Tune in next time as I get my first look at the Crescent City and its streetcars, while Angie and Jak show me their suburb and introduce me to local food.
---
March 20: The penultimate stretch
After the City of New Orleans left Jackson, I mostly focused on finishing up work, so I barely paused to take pictures. And at about noon, I went to get lunch. Well, to get a reservation. There were enough people looking to get lunch in a dining car that they had to spread people out a bit.
Usually, when Dining Car staff asks for reservation, you can sign up for a particular time slot. This time, it was more like "we'll have your name, and we'll call you when we have a spot." So I went back to the Lounge Car to wait and write some more.
It didn't actually take that long before I was called. I was seated with Connie and Reggie, a couple around my age who were actually coming from Chicago to attend a friend's wedding in New Orleans. Connie was actually originally from the area, and she's taken the City of New Orleans back and forth numerous times. Reggie was a native Chicagoan, and this was his first Amtrak train ride. He said he enjoyed it so far.
One thing that, I admit, distracted me a bit at first, was that Connie looked more than a bit like Shea Koshan. Same height, similar build, only slightly lighter skin tone, similar hairstyle, glasses, even some similarities in the facial structure. The only reason why I didn't ask if she happened to have a relative in Vancouver was because she looked different enough to rule out family resemblance.
I decided to order the only thing on the Dining Car lunch menu that wasn't some kind of a sandwich or a salad - mashed potatoes with turkey meatballs, tomato sauce and cheese. And a glass of cranberry juice. There used to be slightly more options, but we don't get them for the same reason as why we didn't get complimentary drinks - budget cuts.
At least we still get complimentary bread.
Just as Connie, Reggie and I started eating, the train pulled up to Brookhaven station.
Now, you're probably wondering - why does a train station have a smokestack? It's because the current station building was originally a municipal power plant. When the city decided to build a new station, they decided that rehabbing the by-then-abandoned building than trying to build a new one. So they basically gutted it, reused old benches from the city's older station (which has since been turned into a military museum), added bigger windows and torn down a few parts of the building. But they kept the smokestack as a nod to the building's original purpose, and it's a good thing they did, because it made Brookhaven station one of the most distinctive-looking train stations in United States.
Oh, and here's the shot of the city of Brookhaven itself.
Connie, Reggie and I had a pleasant chat, but after we paid for lunch, we all headed back to our corners. And I went back to work, occasionally pausing to get pictures like this.
Our next stop was McComb. The city owns its existence entirely to one of Illinois Central Railroad's predecessors, the New Orleans, Jackson and Great Northern Railroad. Owner Henry Simpson McComb wanted to move the railroad's maintenance facilities away from New Orleans, where he was concerned that this workers were tempted by gambling and prostitution.
Like many other places along the City of New Orleans, the city was a site of some pretty ugly, racist episodes during the 1950s-1960s Civil Rights era. Something which, in fairness, the city has been trying to make up for.
McComb's train station is a small, picturesque building that I wasn't able to get a good shot of.
Given the city history, it's not really surprising that McComb train station doubles as an Illinois Central Railroad museum.
As I kept working, the train left Mississippi and crossed into Louisiana.
It wasn't long before we arrived at our penultimate stop - Hammond. The city is home to Southern Louisiana University.
From what I understand, it's something of a Kenosha (or Michigan City) to New Orleans' Chicago - far enough away that it can't be considered a suburb, but close enough that some people do drive there to work (though most people work closer to home).
I've been told that many people from New Orleans area prefer to go to Hammond rather than the Crescent City to catch the train - the parking is cheaper and easier to find, and there's less traffic to deal with.
At the time, I didn't know that I would soon have a chance to explore the city a bit more... And, for the sake of foreshadowing, I'll leave it at that for now.
Shortly after we left Hammond, we passed through the Ponchatoula, a suburb of Hammond that bills itself as "America's Antique City"
And, as you might expect from a small town with that kind of name, it used to have a horrible dark secret. Seriously - that's a Stephen King horror story right there.
Riding past the 'gators
Ponchatoula was the last town we passed through before the City of New Orleans got to the part of the trip I was looking quite forward to - the vast marshes and swamps that stretched along the western edge of Lake Pontchartrain. Video and photos suggested a land unlike anything I've ever quite seen, and reality didn't disappoint.
We rode across two "passes" - I'm not entirely sure if they are proper rivers or parts of the lake that haven't turned to swamp, but they function like rivers.
The second pass, known as Pass Manchac - is lined with docks for boaters and fishermen.
Once we crossed Pass Manchac, the train made its way through a small settlement known as either Manchac or Akers (as far as I can tell, that depends on who you ask). Wikipedia says it started out as a British trade outpost, and that it used to have its own train station - but that was long ago.
Once we cleared Manchac/Akers, it was swampland again
A man who was sitting next to me (who introduced himself as Moody), said he spotted an alligator. I could easily believe him.
Around this point, we stopped to wait for the New Orleans-Chicago train to pass through. By that point, the City of New Orleans was running half an hour behind schedule, but I wasn't too worried. Behind me, a group of passengers that boarded at McComb - two women and one men not that much older than me - were talking about swamps and alligators when, suddenly, the northbound City of New Orleans whooshed right past us.
"Oh sweet Jesus!" the man cried out in the most stereotypically Southern way possible.
He screamed so loudly that it became an in-joke for the entire Lounge Car for the rest of the trip. Poor guy.
Eventually, swampland started to give way to water as Lake Pontchartrain came into view
Pantchartrain is no Great Lake, but it's still pretty impressively large
Then, suddenly, I saw something that almost made me cry out in surprise. A highway went above us and kept going beside us, above the lake.
When I told phoenix_anew and jaklocke about this, they basically shrugged. And why wouldn't they? They grew up here. How could I ever hope to explain why, to a long-time Chicagoan, seeing a highway going above freaking lakewater was so freaky.
It wasn't until I got back to Chicago and did my research that I realize that Lake Pantchartrain was fairly shallow by Chicago and St. Petersburg standards (its average depth is between 12-14 feet (about 3.7 -4.3 meters)), so putting highways above water wasn't as complicated as I thought. But still, part of me still boggles at the whole "someone put the highway over water" thing.
Now approaching New Orleans
Eventually, the highway went off in the other direction
And after going through a bit more swampland
We entered New Orleans' western suburbs.
Even after visiting it, I don't know nearly enough about the area to tell you where suburbs end and New Orleans begin. Or where one suburb ends and other begins, for that matter. So I'm just going to post some highlights of the pictures I took as we got closer and closer to Crescent City.
At about 3:20, we were told to head back to our seats. As I got up, I saw Connie moving to the back of the train as well. Like a proper Chicagoan who lived through at least one Windy City spring, she boarded the train dressed in layers, wearing tights and a long-sleeved top under her dress. Now, she wasn't wearing any layers, and she traded heavy boots for lighter, more comfortable shoes.
I've said many times that human lives would be so much easier if we learned to recognize foreshadowing.
We wished each other best of luck and headed back to our seats.
As I sat down, the conductor announced that we were actually close to the station, but it would take a few minutes for us to maneuver inside. I texted Angie to let her know.
"We'll probably be late," she texted back. "I didn't think there'd be too much traffic."
"Knowing the train delays, lets see which one of us makes it first," I texted back.
"You'll win," Angie responded after a few minutes. "I forgot something at home."
And here's the thing. Even though the train has been 15-30 minutes late throughout the entire trip, even though we stopped in the middle of a swamp to let a train go past us, despite the announcement - we still somehow managed to arrive at the New Orleans Union Terminal at 3:39 PM, only four minutes behind schedule.
Angie and Jak were, suffice to say, were nowhere near the station.
And so, I took a look at the City of New Orleans one last time.
And headed inside the New Orleans Union Terminal building.
Tune in next time as I get my first look at the Crescent City and its streetcars, while Angie and Jak show me their suburb and introduce me to local food.
---