This is not a drill, people.
Tonight I went out and bought light up balloons and extra strong base makeup and made last minute reservations for my birthday trip. I’ve rented an apartment on Frenchman St in New Orleans and I am finally visiting the city that 20 year old me was sure would be her home.
I don’t know what it is about New Orleans but I am sure that I was meant to be there. Maybe it was seeing the film Road Scholar on acid, my attraction to all things feathered or my alcoholism but there is something drawing me. And I am way out of my element. I’m disgustingly midwestern and really pasty. Although I dance constantly, my moves are questionable and I don’t love seafood. Maybe it’s the hopelessness, The always otherness.
Whatever it is, I’m going. I’m seeing cemeteries and stocking up on VooDoo supplies and visiting my wonderful friends. Six other people are joining me and I’ve got at least three residents of the Crescent City who are coming to see me. Very Lucky.
I’m lucky to be 50. Lucky to be in love with a nice, interesting man and have a job that pays the majority of my way. I’m lucky that my three kids are all admirable and as self sufficient as I could have ever hoped and seem to be happy enough. This was not the 50 I thought I would have but in many ways it’s better than I could have imagined.
Originally I was going to go to Key West which was my alternate other city but I made a switch after talking with my buddy in Algiers Point. Why not go where I always really wanted to go. I started to look at hotels and I felt like they were all so hallow, I wanted a huge slumber party. So I started looking at vacation rentals and for the record, I’ve never had a great time in a hotel but I’ve had perfect times in rental apartments.
So here I go to see St. Roch and St. Louis’ Cemeteries, going to have a French 75, a muffaletta and beignets at Morning Call. I’m taking the ferry to Algiers Point and going to watch the parades. And I’m going to have my card’s read.
Laissez les bon temps roulez!