“I have discovered that most people have no one to talk to, no one, that is, who really wants to listen. When it does at last dawn on a man that you really want to hear about his business, the look that comes over his face is something to see”
As we make our way towards the halfway point of our New Orleans Maymester experience, my heart grows heavier. I’ve made so many great friendships with the people from our course and within the city that I can barely handle the thought of leaving it all and entering the “dog -eat-dog” world of Los Angeles again. Ironically, I think back to a particular night in Leila and I’s room, with Maya prancing around listening to the new Harry Styles album and Ashley swiping through dinner options for the week. We were laid about the beds on our phones, ping ponging conversations about books, food, school, and our adventurous plans for the summer – when we landed on the question: What were your first impressions?
We laughed at all the funny first impressions we had of each other, but essentially, none of us thought we would ever become close friends. We all assumed that this Maymester was going to be one of those experiences where everyone got along with each other for group activities and then once it was over we would all go our separate ways. To all of our surprise, we have managed to become extremely close and continue to make wonderful memories together and with the people we meet each day in Louisiana. And I would say that the most exciting aspect of our group is that we all are different in our own ways, and coming from very different backgrounds gives us so much more to learn and understand about each other, ourselves, and the vibrant city around us.
As we made our way through the many historical museums, nature walks, parks, and cultural landmarks of the city – I took comfort in knowing that if I was ever intrigued by something, felt a deep connection, or even wanted to have a quick laugh – I could depend on anyone in our group to lend an ear. I remember reading through the morbid exhibits in the New Orleans Pharmacy Museum and was particularly interested in the treatment that was recommended for women, back in the day, who were showing symptoms such as “feminist thoughts”, “sexual desire”, or “masturbation”. The suggested treatment plan at the time was a combination of physical isolation from society by being confined to a bedroom for months on end, with a restriction on “over-stimulating activities” such as reading or writing. Immediately, this reminded me of what the doctor had recommended to diagnose Edna’s “abnormal behavior” which is what we now know was depression. Also, it reminded me of another short story The Yellow Wallpaper where the main character began to see hallucinations in the yellow wallpaper in her room from being isolated for so long. Without having to say a word, Payton and Emery were already behind me, in the same state of shock as I was to see the delusion behind the practice. It was almost comical, how horrible some of the treatment plans were for the body and the mind – and I’m glad I had a few friends with the same dark humor to enjoy the museum with.
More seriously, after exploring the Whitney Plantation, there was a constant sense of support amongst everyone in the group. Although the tour was intended to serve as a memorial to those who lost their lives on the plantation, I felt of pain in my heart and a nauseous guilt built within me. With every interview inscription I read that depicted the first-handed abuse innocent people suffered, I grew overwhelmed with sorrow. And I believe the most intensely surreal moment of the tour was the artwork of the beheaded men who gave their lives for their rebellion. Seeing how young some of the men were who chose to risk their lives in the name of freedom was undeniably terrifying but also yielded the utmost honor. By the end of the tour, however, I felt a pit in my stomach that almost brought me to tears. Thankfully, as soon as I found a seat by myself on a bench near the entrance, it wasn’t long before Maya was right next to me with her head on my shoulder with everyone else not too far behind. The comfort we took from each other was from presence alone. This brings me back to The Awakening when Madame Ratignolle laid her hand over Edna’s when she sensed that Edna was feeling overwhelmed. It made Edna realize that she had never had a friend so openly affectionate as most of them were “self-contained.” I related on this level because the majority of people we meet these days retain a certain level of distance both physically and emotionally in order to preserve ego. Whereas the people on this Maymester are not.
The best part of this city is that the relationships don’t end with the people who came on this trip with me. In New Orleans, conversations with people who meet walking around the city are a dime a dozen, and friendships are easy to come by. For example, the Lafayette Hotel has a couple bellhops and security guards that work throughout the day and I already know most of them by name, hometown, and some I even know their favorite restaurants in the Quarter. Kevin, one of the bellhops, always says, “Good Morning sunshine!” when he sees me and never fails to ask about what Andrew has planned for us that day. I know Kevin’s hometown, that he is 4 years into retirement, loves to go boating, and that his mom cooks the best jambalaya in town – which is more than I can say about anyone I have sat next to everyday for my semester long classes at USC. So, unlike Los Angeles, the conversations feel real – people aren’t robotically asking: “Hi, how are you” with zero intention of hearing your answer. I look forward to going out and meeting new people every day I’m in New Orleans, which is painfully ironic to Coming Through Slaughter, where Buddy struggles with a crippling loneliness. Nonetheless, this makes me ever grateful for the many friendships I have been lucky enough to make on this trip, and has opened my eyes to the superficial aspects of life I grew accustomed to in Los Angeles.
