Back to the Bayou

Southern Yacht Club

New Orleans, LA

 November 18-21, 2004

Attendees: Tim and Jill (aka: Bonnie and Clyde)

The plans were made, the van was rented, and we were ready to hit the road….well, almost. Things come up in the lives of college students and it did not work out exactly as planned. Thursday afternoon after a long day of class and work, I picked up the van, packed it with all the appropriate sailing trip paraphernalia and up pops “Tim Fitzgerald” on my cell phone. I believe it was only about the tenth call that day; typical the day of trips to get everything ready on time and out of Lawrence. He immediately says, “Jill, call Enterprise and tell them you are returning the van. You and I are heading to New Orleans in the vette.” Tim and I were set on going to New Orleans and we made it happen.

Fourteen hours later, at 7:30 a.m. on Friday morning, we arrived at our destination. Between the two of us driving the whole way, we were ready for a power nap until the other teams showed up later that day. We called our host, Dave, from UNO, to have him open the gate to his apartment, only to find out he had already arrived on campus for his 8:30 test. There we were, sleep deprived and stuck in New Orleans. But who sleeps when they are in New Orleans anyway? We did what everyone does when they get to New Orleans and headed down to Bourbon Street. Eight in the morning is a bit early for my taste but it was only appropriate. Surprisingly, the streets were not empty. They were filled with business operators cleaning up from the previous nights’ activities. Piles of what was left over from the night before sat out on the street alleys waiting to be taken away and brooms were sweeping away any left over remnants. We were looking for a quaint breakfast place, but mostly ran into windows with “Closed” plastered right in front of us. We succeeded in finding a place called Mena’s. It was small, filled with Louisiana culture, and every table was full. In other words, it was perfect and the food hit the spot.

We finally got our 4 hour nap and shower in before Chris LaBorde showed up at the door, ready as we were for the weekend ahead. He was there for coaching purposes, both on and off the water, and a recent KU sailing alumnus. UNO was planning on a practice day on Friday, but the wind just was not blowing. Instead, we grabbed some supplies for the next day; lunch consisting of a three pound Mufalatta, and the necessities for the night ahead, a case of Abita beer. One of our opposing teams, USA (University of Southern Alabama), showed up at about 7 p.m. and we immediately headed to dinner at Mandina’s. Fourteen plates of seafood, alligator soup, and steak settling in our bellies, we were primed and ready to venture into the night.

USA has consistently been a team that matches us in mentality and attitude; always ready for a good time and with the night ahead of us we had no particular plans in mind but to do just that. They had borrowed a fifteen passenger van for their trip down there, so we all piled in the van and headed down to Bourbon Street with their team captain, Karl, at the wheel. It was only the second time that day for Tim and I to step foot on that infamous street, but we weren’t complaining. With so many bars to choose from, we decided to stop in each one that seemed interesting, which happened to be quite a few as the night progressed. Local bands played classic sing-alongs such as “Sweet Home Alabama” to get the crowd dancing. The streets were filled with all types of people with the same goal in mind. I can’t even imagine what it is like during Mardi Gras. After we had our fill there, we headed to a bar called “The Boot” to end the night and meet up with the rest of the teams.     

The next day, with not more than four hours of sleep under our belts, we headed to Lake Ponchatran, referred to as the “Ponch,” for the Back to the Bayou regatta. Six teams were present that day to make up nine boats on the line. The wind still was not blowing when we arrived which resulted in a postponement of the races. The first race came at about 10:30 and before that, Tim, Chris, and I, watched a front move in across the lake which held steady throughout the day. The first races were held in about 20 to 25 mph winds and the last four were sailed in 8 to 16 mph. We were sailing well, mostly trying to keep the water out of the boat, and loving the gusty winds. We saw quite a few boats capsize under the heavy gusts. Between races consisted of ways to keep our minds and bodies responding to stimuli. We purposefully capsized our boat after the first set of races to get the water out of the boat resulting in a bit of hypothermia for the both of us. Luckily, Chris was there to keep us motivated and to keep our heads in the game. Hot showers and small bites of the Mufalatta sandwich between races was just what we needed to make it through the day. After the second set of races most of the sailors were noticeably fatigued. The unexpected cold and hard winds had hit us hard all day and the journey out to the race course prolonged the rotations.  The races were called off by 3 p.m. and we were all grateful of the race committee’s dedication out there on the water as usual.

The results of the day were surprising. Despite the fact that we did not have a “B” team to sail with, which meant our “B” team got ten points every time, we still took an overall seventh place. For “A” team, Tim and I tied for second with Paul and Ashley from USA. Not a bad day of sailing in my book. Tulane ended up placing first overall.  

We had planned on heading to Baton Rouge for the evening to see the LSU vs. Ole Miss football game. We were told the LSU stadium is comparable to Allen Fieldhouse and we were astounded by the 90,000 capacitance that evening. It was a sea of dedicated fans clad in purple and yellow. We noticed an excess of camouflage as proper attire which struck us off guard as Kansas Midwesterners. The game proved itself over and over as the fans cheered at every gain on the other team. As the night progressed, Tim and I slowly learned the proper cheers and joined in when the crowd commenced. We made an early start to the gates to beat the crowd out of the stadium. As we were walking outside, we could see the thousands of fans pouring down the stair ramps resembling a scene from Gladiator.

Then began the search for the perfect tailgating party. LSU fans are notorious for their tailgating skills. They don’t bring small Weber grills and packages of frozen hamburger patties. They have commercial size gas grills with whole pigs roasting inside and 20 gallon cauldrons full of jambalaya and gumbo. The food never runs out and the drinks keep on flowing all night. We found a party that seemed to have all the necessities and joined in the festivities like we knew everyone. At the end of the night we were saying our good-byes as if we were among old friends. Another night with good food in our system was enough to keep us going once again.

Our next destination for the weekend was a bar called ‘s. It was packed with cheerful LSU fans and the dancing was that of celebration. Lines to the bathroom were entertaining and the local Louisianans proved to be a fun group to hang out with even west of Bourbon Street. An early evening for us, we headed to our next host apartment and passed out. A late start at ten a.m. on Sunday, we were on the road by 10:40. Tim and I made it home this time in thirteen hours and managed to make a pit stop to the Waffle House for some grub. The vette proved itself as a great escape car and we are grateful that Louisianans do not follow the speed limit. Not even close, as we were being passed going speeds of 90 mph and above.  

Thanks to UNO and Tulane for hosting Back to the Bayou and we’ll see you next regatta ready to do it again.