Long before texting there was a meet-up plan.
“I’ll pick you up in front of the gray building on the corner at 7:00 p.m.”
“After the baseball game, find me on the other side of the park.”
“If I’m late, stand by the market on the Northeast corner.”
Life became simpler with texting. At least that was the idea. Yet, between auto-correct and thumbs—or in my case an index finger—messages crossed flying back and forth like the ball in a ping pong tournament.
Still, over a three-day period at last year’s New Orleans Jazz Fest group texting with my family was our way of coordinating meeting up in a crowd of 65,000+ people. Whether it was a simple rendezvous, logistical plan or basic information the text was often prefaced by asking:
“Where are you?”
“Near green flag 10 yards in front of the flag Don’t Tread on Me.”
Google Earth couldn’t have provided a better detail.
“Headed to Blues tent.”
“Don’t see you.”
“Far right near aisle facing RH screen. See guy in Hawaiian shirt on aisle?”
Somehow we managed to connect each time.
”Where are you?”
“Jazz tent. Dad’s still at Acura stage then back to Gentilly and Congo. Check out BBQ turkey leg.”
“Who are you seeing?”
“I’m at entrance to Blues tent.”
“I’m at Jazz tent. Main entrance on side in back.”
“Now Irvin Mayfield. Meet you there. Getting something to eat first.”
“Need a drink first.”
Texting not only provided instant logistics and music options but also culinary enlightenment.
“Where are you?”
“Eating boiled crayfish in front of food now.”
“In front of alligator pie.”
“On way post turkey leg.”
“Look for us.”
“Next to the path.”
“Opposite red and yellow flag.”
Occasionally, a crisis can arise.
“My phone’s going to die.”
And, when in doubt:
“Meet you in front of bathrooms to right of Gentilly St exit.”
Now, there’s a meet-up plan.