POISONED EXPECTATIONS (#70): On New Year’s Day, all of the other law school graduates checked out of our French Quarter hotel, heading home to start work the next day.  I had landed a job with Fisher & Sauls, one of St. Petersburg’s “Silk stocking” law firms.  I could have started work on Thursday, January 2nd, but was able to postpone my opening day until Monday, January 6th.  

I wanted to stay in New Orleans and watch the New Year’s Day bowl games. The hotel manager let Nancy and me move up to the Penthouse Suite, since the hotel was now empty.  The Penthouse Suite, a pretty girl, a day of college football bowl games on TV, and a good job on the horizon, what could be better?

For brunch we had coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde.  Then football on TV and an early dinner.

Whenever we went to New Orleans with Nancy’s parents, dinner was always at Antoine’s, Arnaud’s, Galatoire’s or Broussard’s. Those four classic Creole restaurants are all over 100 years old and are known as the Grand Dames of New Orleans.  Sunday brunch was always at Commander’s Palace in the Garden District.

Since we were on our own, and on a limited budget, Nancy recommended Oyster PoBoys at a place we had been too with her parents.  The Oyster PoBoys there were alway a treat.  The ones we had for dinner were to die for.  Nearly, literally.

We were on the king size bed, drinking beer and watching football.  The best games were the Orange Bowl where #9 Notre Dame beat #2 Alabama, and the Rose Bowl where #5 USC beat #3 Ohio State for the National Championship in the UPI “Coaches” Poll.  #1 Oklahoma was on probation and didn’t play a bowl game, yet the AP Poll still named them National Champions.  Screwy!   How could you be named National Champion without playing a bowl game?

About 9:30, our football viewing was rudely interrupted.  Nancy went into the bathroom, and I heard a painful retching sound.  As soon as she came out, looking green and holding her stomach, it was my turn.  This was the worst food poisoning either of us had ever experienced, and we decided we needed to go to the hospital.

At the front desk, we got directions to Charity Hospital. Founded in 1736, only 18 years after the city of New Orleans was founded by France, Charity Hospital was the second oldest continuously operated public hospital in the United States.  Bellevue Hospital in New York was built one month earlier.  The complex on Tulane Avenue, built in 1939, was the sixth and final Charity Hospital.  Sadly, Charity Hospital was severely damaged by Hurricane Katrina and never reopened.

At the time we knew none of this, it was just the closest hospital.  We took a garbage can from our room and drove to the Emergency Room.  

I was sick again as soon we got out of the car.  Nancy made it to the bathroom inside, while I checked us in.  Then it was my turn to run to the bathroom.  When I came out, Nancy said, “When will they see us? There is no one here.”  She was right, there absolutely wasn’t another soul in sight.  I suggested, “Next time we have to throw up, let’s not go to the bathroom. Just throw up on the floor.”  If I had then known the storied history of Charity Hospital, I might have offered another suggestion.  

In about 5 minutes, Nancy threw up on the floor, and a nurse took us to see a doctor.  I’m not sure if tests were run to identify the exact cause of our suffering.  The Doctor gave us some pills, told us to drink plenty of fluids, and advised us to see a doctor in Gainesville if we were sick for more than another day.

The problem with drinking plenty of fluids was that the fluids gave us more ammunition for the garbage can.  Our stomach cramps were so bad, we knew we would never get to sleep, so we decided to check out and drive back to Gainesville. 

We took our trusty garbage can with us, but whenever we had time we would pull over, open the car door and puke.  To keep our spirits up, we talked about New Years past.  

For me, the best times had been with my Alpha Delta Epsilon brothers and Nancy at St. Petersburg Junior College.  The first year we had a big party at the house on Emerson Avenue, then everyone came back after we took our dates home and continued the party.  

The next year we chartered a party boat, after checking with the captain to see that alcohol was permitted.  We partied in Tampa Bay and headed in at 12:30.  Robbie Hawk said his parents were out of town and invited us all to his house after the boat ride, with the warning, “We just can’t break anything!”  

We were all back at Robbie’s by 2:00 am after dropping off our dates, and took turns drinking beer, telling stories, and dozing off.  We ran out of beer and were waiting for the 7/11 to open at 7:00 am so we could restock.  When the sun came up, we took the American Flag that his parents would display on special occasions and ran around the block waiving it and cheering in the New Year.  We then played touch football until the bowl games started. 

Now, I rarely stay up to watch the ball drop at midnight on New Year’s Eve. 

We recovered from our food poisoning and on Monday, January 6th, 1975, I showed up at Fisher & Sauls in a coat and tie.  Ready for what, I had no idea.