T.S.A. Monitors Strange Behavior At New Orleans Airport

April 12, 2015

New Orleans, Louisiana

My day began at 4:00 a.m. and the next 9 1/2 hours were spent on two airplanes and in the airports of Minneapolis-St.Paul, Atlanta, and New Orleans. No doubt this paragraph is not the most interesting start for what is supposed to be a bike touring journal-picayune. I apologize for that.

I think I saw a man out on the wing! (It's good to get my second annual Twilight Zone reference out of the way on the very first day.)

Thank you, TSA, for your diligence in protecting air-travelers from potentially dangerous bicycles.

The Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport's baggage claim area is where this story truly begins. After claiming my luggage (mainly my bike box) I performed my first inside-the-airport-bicycle-reassembly-operation. It was pretty fun even though the first twenty minutes of the procedure was conducted under the watchful eye of a TSA agent. I was amused by his lame attempt to hide the fact that he was spying on me. Every time I looked up at him, he quickly looked down at his phone--as if he was engrossed in Facebook or something.

Anyway, I'm not a great bike mechanic or anything, so I took great care to do the job deliberately and accurately. Upon completion I think I got a taste of the psychological rush that a surgeon must experience after performing a delicate kidney transplant. I even amazed myself at how nicely my bike rode after I was done. I joyfully pedaled away from the airport terminal and onto Highway 61.

The ever-popular bike-at-the-airport shot.

With its overabundance of debris on the shoulder, Highway 61 wasn't the best road I've ever ridden on, but it also wasn't the worst. What it WAS was the very first "Hurricane Evacuation Route" I've ever been on. I thought that was pretty cool.

The Hurricane Evacuation Route was not the end of my fun for the day, however. After checking into the Holiday Inn Express, I unloaded some of my gear and rode my bike in a northeasterly direction. It was kind of drizzly, but I didn't mind because the temperature was about 80-degrees. Two days ago I woke up to a 30-degree morning in Minnesota, so how could I complain about a little sprinkly rain? I couldn't.

I went through some pretty congested commercial districts that were notable for the wonderful aromas that emanated from the many restaurants. I made my way to Lake Pontchartrain where I found gray skies, gray water and, much to my surprise, a bike trail.

Pontchartrain is such a cool name that I improvised a song about it as I rode on the trail. I know you can't hear the tune, but the lyrics went something like this:

Lake Pontchartrain, Lake Pontchartrain,

That's my refrain.

Lake Pontchartrain, Lake Pontchartrain,

It might sound inane, but I like Pontchartrain!

I sang my song as I rode along the lakeshore. I sang it in a rap beat to the pace of my turning pedals. Over and over and over.

This is where high-rolling jetsetters go to experience Lake Pontchartrain.

Riding back from the lake I had to endure all those awesome restaurant smells again. I came within an inch of stopping at a little Cuban place, but I resisted. I came to Louisiana for Cajun/Creole cooking--my favorite ethnic food--and, by God, that's what I held out for.

When I got back to my motel, I Googled the origin of the name "Pontchartrain." (It was named after the French Minister of the Marine under Louis XIV.) I also learned there was already a song titled "Lakes of Pontchartrain." The lyrics of that song are nothing like mine, but to avoid confusion and copyright infringement, I changed the title of MY song to "The 630 Square-Mile Saltwater Lake On the North Side of New Orleans."

Actually, Lake Pontchartrain is not a lake at all, but an estuary connected to the Gulf of Mexico which gives some justification to the title of my journal. It's sort of Louisiana's version of the Puget Sound. A purist would ride another 20 or 30 miles beyond New Orleans to dip his rear tire in the ACTUAL Gulf of Mexico, but I'm not a purist.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, I will ride the fifteen miles from this motel to the French Quarter. The weathermen are predicting thunderstorms for the next several days, so if the sky is ablaze with lightning I may have to take a taxi. Either way, I'm not going to miss out on the fun that New Orleans has in store for me.

I know where to go if a hurricane hits NOLA.

Today's ride: 13 miles (21 km)
Total: 13 miles (21 km)

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