Down in New Orleans

“Your tea sir.”

I nod and mutter a quick thanks as the server places the cup and napkin on my table, preoccupied with the stack of papers sitting in front of me. The Raleigh to Washington line requested a new engine as detailed in the specifications in front of me, a letter from the Railway board requesting my opinion on the new Diesel locomotive technology, a slight tinge of concern at some of the success it's been having in Europe. Is it the future? Will my beloved Steam Engines one day be obsolete? I set down the folder and pick up my cup, the cool perspiration a welcome feeling in the steamy Louisiana heat. The cool brown liquid inside is refreshing and sweet, and for just a moment as the blend of tea, cane sugar, and ice cold water fills my taste buds I am transported away from the oppressive temperature and consider the good of this city. New Orleans, wealthiest city in the South. And looking at the cars driving by you could see it, well-dressed ladies and silk-suited men milled about, though you could tell the locals in the cafe from my fellow passengers by who was fanning themselves harder in the heat.

I look down at my work, a reminder not to visit this city in the summer again, but then I had no choice, the New Orleans Stop was part of the appeal of this train, and to the city's credit, it certainly was a nice place, besides of course the heat. A smooth melody could be heard, a few of the staff playing Jazz on a small stage, while not exclusive to this city, it was where it was born and you could feel the spirit and dare I say pride in it.

My fingers gripped the bridge of my nose and I closed my eyes, “I've got to finish this.” I mutter, hoping that I can get at least some of this done and in the mail before our train leaves the city tomorrow morning.

“What was that sir?” A man in a white server outfit and holding a broken pencil and notepad asked as walked briskly over.

I shook my head. “Nothing, but is it always this hot?”

“No sir.” He replied with a friendly smile. “I hope you're stay'n more than just today sir, cuz most folks are guess'n it'll cool down next few days.”

“My Train leaves tomorrow,” I reply fanning myself with the folder about diesel engines.

The server frowned. “Well sir that's a mighty shame, our great city has so many things beyond just the heat, you been down by the river?”

“No,” I reply setting down the folder. “I just got off the train a half an hour ago.”

The man's face twisted into a smile. “Well, sir I have to tell you when your lunch is done you best get moving! Don't waste it here, you get yourself to main street stores, the theater, oh and if I were you I'd get yourself down to that old sugar mill down by the river, what that couple did with it....” The man shook his head in a good way. “If you just look, sir, you'll find this city is worth more than a passing glance!”

“I appreciate the advice. Perhaps you'd like to tell me more?”

“I'd love to sir, but my boss is sending me looks, but you go talk to the sweet lady with Praline cart out by the street, she'll talk you up all about everything in this city.”

I nodded. “I most certainly will, thank you.”

He smiled and trotted over to another table, off to chat up some of the other folks just getting off the train and looking for lunch. I glanced down at my work, still unfinished and sitting there, an albatross. Well some of it could be done from the train I thought, sliding most of the less urgent folders back into my dark leather briefcase, still, I had to reply inquiry about the diesel trains.

“To the members of the board....” I mutter, my pen halting. No, how do I reply? Can the little Engines in cars really be big enough and powerful enough to push a full train? I needed more time to think and my gaze drifted around the cafe, only a few of those who had been on my train still remained, and I found myself idly trying to remember what I knew about them, the Widow, sitting in black with her young Daughter and daughter's Governess over in the far side of the cafe, playing with the child. Only a few tables away on my right sat the annoying woman, her husband and son absent, though after the argument they'd had in the compartment next to mine last night, I wasn't surprised they needed time to cool off, though in the Louisiana sun I didn't think cooling off was possible.

“Your Muffuletta sir.” The waiter stated setting down a plate on my table.

“Thank you.” I replied, “More tea if you don't mind.”

“Yes sir.”

It looked like a normal sandwich, bread, meat, and vegetables. But I'd been told I just had to try it by half a dozen people before I had arrived, and taking a bite I found that they weren't wrong to suggest it. A Tangy vinegar and olive oil was soaked into the bun, and sharp cheese contrasted with the cold cuts of meat inside, it was certainly worth the extra wait and I found myself having to pace myself, an uncommon occurrence. If the rest of New Orleans was as much a pleasant surprise as this was, perhaps I should have scheduled a longer visit.