Meanwhile, Back In The USA
To the airport. Check in. Blank looks. Confused people.
‘Sir, your flight is tomorrow.’
Wrong day! We’ve gone native, we don’t know what day it is. The Schedule has betrayed me. Ashly is on her iPad in minutes, get a cab idiot. We’re back in our room at The Marais in an hour.
Cool.
The French Quarter is in constant rain all day. Ashly buys a T-shirt from a vending machine in the police station and stares at the rather statuesque police officers. We buy even more stuff and take time to look up without wondering where we need to be tomorrow. We ‘eat local’ with stupidly huge margaritas we can’t finish and glorious ceviche in an empty place on the edge of The Quarter. We walk, and then we walk some more. The rain is exactly as we’ve known it for 17 days – it’s now a friend that will be missed; sometimes slightly annoying, sometimes warm and constant, sometimes harsh but always on our shoulder. Then the Southern Rain does what it’s good at. It stops. We stride purposefully to look at the Mississippi River for the last time and ask someone to take our picture as we don’t have many of us together – the sun pops out.
They could grow anything down here..
