We drove from Dallas to Baton Rouge, the week after the record-setting ice storm. It was the first time we had sailed from New Orleans and Baton Rouge seemed like a simpler, cheaper place to stay the night before. The drive from Baton Rouge into New Orleans was easy on a Saturday morning, light traffic, sunny sky. We parked in the city lot ($80 in advance) and were onboard within an hour. The parking garage seems safe and clean and the process was no worse than Galveston or Miami. We probably just had good luck getting on board so quickly, but it does make the whole trip seem more fun when you get on quickly.

We were on the Empress deck, cabin 7201, which other people on CrusieCritic have asked about. This cabin is tiny, with basically just a queen bed (made from two twins), a small desk and a TV: no fridge, no couch, not even a chair! However, since the cabin is in the extreme bow of the ship, directly under the bridge, the "obstructed view" involved our own "private deck", wrapped around the entire front of the ship, with discreet doors on either end. A few other passengers eventually wandered around "our" deck, but the lack of chairs and drink service kept the place mostly for us. So the good thing was the "private" deck but the bad thing was the tiny size of the cabin itself. The window in the cabin is one-way glass, so you can see out but people walking by on the deck outside cant see in. Still, this is a little weird at first, if you are used to your own balcony. There were five deck chairs roped down on "our" deck, which we set up and used throughout the cruise. There is even an ashtray out there, if you like cigars after dinner. Considering we paid for an inside cabin, having this big, nice (although public) deck right outside our window was great. And this section of the boat is very, very quiet, and vibration-free.

Launch at 4pm was delayed and we stood on the bow outside our cabin, right under an enormous bridge in New Orleans, for an hour watching ships sail by. As the Triumph fired up and began her turn into the Mississippi, two brightly-lit paddlewheel boats floated by, one playing a genuine Scott Joplin rag tune on a real caliope, as dusk flickered down and we steamed into the river. (The one playing the music was the Creole Queen.) Read more