National Lampoons Southern Vacation (sorta) Part V

The next morning was getaway day, and we were heading back home to STL. I missed my puppy dog! Will be good to see her. Steve, who was watching her while I was gone, sent me a photo of her taken from his cell phone. So sad!

We decided that before we left, we'd wander through one of New Orleans' unique cemeteries. As you may know, since New Orleans is below sea level (and sinking), there is no way to “bury” the dead. So, the old cemeteries are full of crypts, and it's very spooky! Several of them rest outside the Quarter, and mom recommended that we see one, as they are unique. Becca and my junior paranormal squad were more than game!!

We arrived at the gates of one of the famous “resting places”, only to find it locked. They don't open until 11, and it was about 10:30. Well, piss! The streets were vacant, quiet, and eerily calm. Still, I wasn't about to just sit by the side of the road for thirty minutes and wait for the cemetery to open! What to do? Ah! Only one thing! Café Du Monde! Some café au lait and beignets before we head home! By then, the graveyard should be open.

The Café was jammed packed with customers! Wall to wall! We wandered over to the farthest side of the café, along the narrow path that buttressed the levee wall. There were a few tables out there as well, and a group of people sitting, relaxing, taking in some coffee and New Orleans just as we were. Took a while to get our order, but the staff was coping as best they could. I mean, this place was jumping! Guess everyone hits it after church lets out at the St. Louis Cathedral?

As we took in the morning, sipping our coffee, one of the girls noticed a gentleman seated outside along the levee wall, dressed in a snappy black suit, chatting on a cellphone.

“Who is that?” my eldest asked. Just looked like an older black dude, chatting on a phone with wire rimmed glasses to me. Who the hell is it supposed to be?

My mother creened her neck to see, as a true rubbernecker, and her face lit up.

“Oh, that's! That's!” she said excitedly, then paused. Her eyes rolled back, trying to recognize the face, then, as she bounced in her seat, she exclaimed “Samuel L. Jackson!”

Now, I was suspect. You see, once at the Pebble Beach Clubhouse, while having drinks, she claimed that a black gentleman seated by us with a small group was Bryant Gumble. But, instead it was in fact, O.J. Simpson!!

“Sure it's not O.J., mom?” She laughed and smiled.

“No, but that's him.”

I took a good, hard look again, because I sure didn't see the resemblance. He'd taken off his glasses, hung up his cellphone, and looked over at us. God Damn! It WAS Samuel L. Jackson! Not more than 10 ft. away! Before long we began to realize they were in the process of shooting some movie scenes, and some of those around him were his handlers, and people from the crew. I watched a bit, but tried not to gawk. It was amazing that in such a crowded place, no one recognized him.

After that bit of excitement, we decided to check out the graveyard. As we approached, it was obvious that the gates had been thrown open to the public, so I parked the car near by and we cautiously strolled in. It was a sunny, beautiful Sunday morning, sun shining brightly, only a few puffy clouds coasting through a clear blue sky. The New Orleans summer breeze was much cooler than normal for a typical July summer day. A real treat to behold.

The cemetery, on the other hand, was a bit more dreary. While one had to enjoy a beautiful tropical summer morning, the sight of crypts of the dead gave it a surreal appearance. The cemetery was lined by a tall brick fence, with gates on each side wide enough to allow a car to pass into it. The tombs were old an worn, set up in rows. It was haphazardly kept, and almost appeared abandoned. We wandered down the rows, gawking I guess you could say. Frighteningly, a few of the crypts were broken open, and there were obviously candles around, as though some voodoo ceremonies were performed there!

This was the site, by the way for you movie trivia buffs, where Easy Rider shot a bizarre, trippy sequence, with Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper tripping on some kind of mushroom or something, wandering the cemetery, being generally stupid, as youth can be, from whatever decade. I felt as tho I was in that same trippy mode. I understood the inspiration, now.

Many of the people buried there were from very long ago, pre 1800's even. Some of the epitaphs were in French, and I tried to make sense of them, having a elementary knowledge of the language. I read one, and made out a good part of it. He was a guerrier, a warrior. A fighter. When he died, I don't even think Louisiana was part of the US yet.

Soon, I found an English translation of his epitaph, and was surprising pleased as to how much I'd translated on my own. He was a Revolutionary War soldier, who fought hard, and was fearless. A born leader. Must have been greatly admired. Rest in Peace, mon frère.

Now, there's only so many crypts you can look at (I wouldn't say admire) before it becomes tiresome. It's creepy enough as it is. My girls seemed fascinated by it, but frightened at the same time. Especially my youngest. She wasn't having a great time, complaining that her head hurt! This place was creeping her out, big time!

At one point, while gazing across the cemetery, I saw a short, black figure dart across the aisle and behind one of the crypts! Did I just fucking see that? I glanced around, located everyone in our party, and NO ONE was anywhere near that part of the graveyard! And we were the only one's there! Naw, that had to be my imagination? I kept quiet about it, because I didn't a) want them to think I was crazy, and b) start to panic them. The little one looked spooked enough as it is.

.We started to make our way out of the place, and I inquired as to what everyone's opinion was. Sami and Rebecca thought it was very cool. They are like that. They like this kinda creepy shit. Sarah, not so much. I'm kinda with her. I've gotten older, and find interesting things, but overall, I'm kinda creeped out by it. Mom had been there before, and as with so many things about my mother, she was ambivalent.

As we exited out onto the sidewalk, Sarah declared “my headache is gone!” She stared up at me with her beautiful eyes with amazement, and a slightly puzzled look. “It just went away.” She turned to look back into the cemetery, and walked back in. Standing three or four steps in, she turned back to me and shouted “now my head hurts again!”

She approached me again, paused, looked at the ground, then back at me, declaring “now it's gone again!” She repeated the process once more just to satisfy her curiosity, with the same results. Now, I can't say there is anything paranormal regarding that, but I do think she's sensitive. I've noticed that. I don't know if it's because she's young, or if it's a gift, but, while I've never really said anything to her, I think she's got some psychic sensitivities. Strange. For her to feel that, I mean. It was strange to her, too.

The cemetery was literally in the shadow of I-10, so with a quick hop, skip, and jump we were shuttling down the Interstate, headed for home. Just a short westerly drive through the bayous, and we'd be on I-55 all the way home, northbound. About 10 hours, and I'd turned it before. Nothing I couldn't knock out.

I pulled over on the outskirts of New Orleans to fill the tank, let the kids get a restroom break, and prepare for the long trip home. Beck, seated in the car alone after everyone ran into the store, asked “so, did you see anything spooky?” She bore a wide, devilish grin.

“Did you?” I asked. She shook her head no. “Well, yeah, I did see something,” I confessed, and told her about the quick, dark shadow I saw run towards one of the tombs.

“Wow!” she said.

Sami piled back into the van, and Becca bursted out “your dad saw a ghost back at the cemetery!” Doh! Thanks Beck! Now I'm going to look retarded!

“Really?! I saw one too!” Sami exclaimed! “Short, dark, like a little kid! It hid behind one of those, things, whatever!” Is she for real?

“Where did you see it, what part of the cemetery?” I asked. She described exactly where I saw movement, the same time I saw it. Creepy!

“Yeah, I didn't want to say anything,” she said, “you know, because I though I was nuts!” I could feel my skin crawl, yet I was really amazed.

Mom and my youngest, Sarah, returned from the convenience store and buckled themselves in as I started to pull away from the gas island.

“Guess what, Sarah,” Sami said, “dad and I both saw something back at the cemetery! And we didn't say anything to each other!” Sarah's eyes grew as big as saucers.

“I saw it too!” Sarah said.

“You did?” I asked . She nodded, and had a blank, pale look on her face. “What was it?” I asked.

“A little girl, in, like, a black dress. She was hiding behind one of the crypt-thingies, like. It scared me!”

Unbelievable! All three of us described the exact same event and hadn't mentioned it to anyone for fear we were imagining it! It was as though we couldn't believe our eyes! But, there's no doubt, all three of us corroborated the stories, and we weren't standing next to each other when it happened, but we each had a different viewpoint of the event. Genuinely fascinating!

All the way home, as my eyes wandered the Louisiana/Mississippi countryside, admiring the bayous wondering how good the fishing would be, I couldn't help but replay that moment in my mind. What did I see at that cemetery? What could it have been? A dark shadow, scurrying across the gravel path between the rows of tombs, vanishing behind one. Isn't it amazing that both my daughters would have noticed it as well? My eyes couldn't have been playing tricks on me! Not all three of us from different angles of the graveyard! And my youngest, the most sensitive of us all, even described her as a little girl in a black dress. Astounding! I was speechless.

Now I want to go back just to investigate the paranormal side of The Big Easy! That would be quite a trip!