In early March, I attended a conference in New Orleans, Louisiana with my colleagues, Daniel and Nancy. The long day of lectures ended at 4pm after which we were free to wander the city. As I strolled down Bourbon Street, I took inventory: Kentucky Wildcat fans painted the streets blue with March Madness; a lone trumpet player spit out an inventive yet sorrowful lullaby under the street corner gas lamp; wrought iron balconies, hanging ferns, and fleur-de-lis decorated porches; an old corner house built for Napoleon in 1797 now doubled as a bar; a tall, thin woman dressed in her bra and underwear sang a siren’s song, which attracted many stares as well as lonely men into the Hustler club; women adorned with colorful beads drank daiquiris out of hurricane glasses; and music poured through open windows, allowing us to walk in time with the beat. The memories of old booze and simmering gumbo wafted into the breeze from everywhere and nowhere in particular.
We meandered from Bourbon Street to Jackson Square to the riverfront where the warm, humid breeze kicking off the mighty Mississippi River made our hair curl effortlessly. It was easy to breathe, and conversation was light. We were in no hurry, pretty unusual for three hard-charging execs working in New York City. I pointed out the New Orleans aquarium, and reminisced about seeing my first IMAX movie, “The Living Sea” nearly 15 years ago. Daniel said that James Cameron was filming a new movie about the Mariana Trench, the deepest part of the world’s ocean, where it was rumored that many undiscovered species of sea life existed. The conversation drifted to James Cameron movies, and Daniel relayed that he watched Titanic again this weekend. I asked how it held up, and Daniel revealed that with time, the movie actually improved. I noted that Leonardo DiCaprio, despite his youth, had amazing acting chops in that movie, and that his talent had only gotten stronger in recent years. Daniel and Nancy whole-heartedly agreed.
It might have been the long walk, humid air, or the hour time difference, but our stomachs indicated that it was time for dinner, despite our reservation not being for another hour. We hailed a cab and took off to Lillette, a highly recommended restaurant on the corner of Magazine and Antonine in the Garden District. Unlike Bourbon Street, this restaurant was understated, simple, and elegant.
Upon arrival, the hostess said that she could seat us early without issue. While waiting for a table, a handsome yet brusque man bumped into me from behind as he was trying to talk to the manager. Nothing about him said southern gentleman. His energy was urgent as he telegraphed the message to the manager, “Chuck. Chuck. Listen. I have Leo. Can we have a table for six? Can you get us in?” The manager and the hostess huddled quickly to develop a game plan, while the man apologized to me for possibly cutting in front of me to be seated. I grumbled, “No problem,” in my best tough New York attitude. Chuck came back with, “Fine. We can seat the party in the back. Does that work?” The man thanked Chuck profusely and left the restaurant, igniting my curiosity about what man named Leo deserved this type of royal treatment.
We were quickly seated and our cocktails were served. I relayed the story to Daniel, who had returned from the bathroom and met us at our table. “Know any Leos? Who could this be?” I asked. “Do you think it could be the Leo that we discussed earlier?” Daniel replied. I was thunderstruck. My usually quick mind was conjecturing about politicians or someone of local importance, not Hollywood talent. Could it be THAT Leo, the one that we were talking about just ten minutes before? Like trying to solve any other urgent problem, I pulled out my iPhone and madly started googling. I could barely breathe when I saw the March 7th article appear on the screen detailing Leo’s latest movie, Quentin Tarantino’s Django, which happened to be currently filming in New Orleans.
Sometimes, when I least expect it and I am not focused on trying so hard, the Universe sends me a sign, a grand coincidence, that I might not actually be doing it all wrong, as I often fear. When this happens, it always stops me cold, prompting me to pay closer attention to the present and what’s around me. Despite my life’s seemingly broken road, I like to think that perhaps every step of it was leading me to exactly where I was supposed to be right now. I have come to think of these magical coincidences as a sign of me being “in flow” with the Universe.
Precisely at that moment, I looked up to see a tall, leggy blonde slip into the dark restaurant, quickly followed by a tall man hidden under a baseball cap and goatee, as well as four other attractive men. They sat in a round booth in the corner, a few tables away from us. Without realizing it, our waitress had come to take our order. Sensing my distraction, she politely asked, “Do you have any questions?” Cooly, I replied, “Actually, I do have a question. Would that happen to be Leonardo DiCaprio at the corner table?” Our waitress slyly smiled and in her southern way, she whispered, “It just might be.” I grinned, and without missing a beat, I ordered appetizers for the table. There are very few things I know for certain, but I know this: the mysteries of the Universe never disappoint and being in the flow is always good. Or maybe it was just the voodoo magic of this special city.
