Ahhh, breakfast at the renowned Cafe du Monde in the French Market of New Orleans. Cafe au lait and beignets over the morning newspaper. This is paradise. Imagine our surprise when a smarmy voice came over the loudspeaker, intoning "We've secretly replaced the coffee at the world-famous Cafe du Monde with Folger's Crystals. Let's see if these picky coffee-drinkers can taste the difference!" I was perturbed at this invasion of crass commercialism in a house of elegance and good taste. Kristanne, however, was thrilled -- Folger's paid her $100 for the rights to that promotional picture up top. I now call her the "Benedict Arnold of Coffee." Well, that and "honey-pie." And "snoogums." Look for her in an ad campaign near you.
| Jolted to life by the Cafe du Monde's pleasantly caffeinated offerings,
Kristanne and I put on our best Extreme faces and hit the bricks, searching for
kicks, laughs, some kinda crazy jolt to set us on our ear. Jackson Square? Nice,
but not enough. Sure, it's Today's Scenic Shot, but we wanted more. A statue of
Andrew Jackson on a horse is a good thing to see, but it don't set the dogs to
dancing in the streets, if you know what I mean. We craved the raw pleasures found
on life's jagged edge, the apocalyptic surge of a day spent embracing danger
and crushing it in our bare fists.
We wanted the Garden District. A fascinating melange of Spanish, French, and Colonial influences, the architecture of New Orleans' Garden District never fails to delight. We reveled in the artistry of our ancestors and left, sated for the moment. |
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| But not for long. Extreme Telecommuting requires a Thirst for Adventure
That Can Never Be Quenched. Fortunately, in addition to a Toenail that Never
Stops Growing, we possess this (it was a package deal at the Winn Dixie -- don't ask).
Feinting left at Poydras Street, we doubled back on Tchopitoulas and then
performed a difficult combination tour j'ete\pas de deux onto Canal street, all the
while humming the theme song from Deliverance. We're that good.
Soon we were gazing wide-eyed on the mausoleums of the old St. Louis cemetery in the French Quarter. Because New Orleans is actually below sea level, graves dug underground fill with water. Long ago, this was combatted by drilling holes in coffins so that they could be sunk in the water. However, the sounds made as a coffin gradually filled up and was sunk by pallbearers wielding long poles were hardly appealing to a delicate constitution. Much tidier to have mausoleums above ground. |
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| That seen, we were ready to hit the road for the Gulf Coast beaches of Florida's panhandle. As we were leaving Louisiana, however, an advertisement for a slightly curious Water Park caught our eye. The "Styx River" Water World? Hmmm. We wondered about the features the Styx River Water World might offer. Upon the completion of your last slide, would a replica Charon ferry you across the river to the Gates of Hell? Is this a sister park to the "Eternal Damnation Amusement Center and Fun House?" Or was this just a clever front for old Beelzebub himself, out here stealing innocent souls who thought they were just going to get a nice cool slide? We decided not to investigate -- the risks did not seem to be commensurate with the potential rewards. |  |
Time to go to Florida. The one place our mothers didn't want us to go. "You stand out," they said. "You'll be shot on sight. The crows will pluck your eyes from your dried-out skulls." Our mothers tend towards the slightly excitable. Nonetheless, we had our misgivings, too. Sure, we weren't driving a rental car, but we did have out-of-state plates riding in license-plate frames that pretty much advertise, "We Have Expensive Computer Equipment -- Please Beat Us Up And Steal It." Ok, they just have our worldwide web address, but hooligans get sharper every day. They know how to read between the lines. So, we had a few trepidations. It didn't help matters at all when one of the first things we saw in Florida was the bumpersticker below. Whatever happened to Anita Bryant offering you a glass of orange juice and a big ole "Welcome to the Sunshine State" sign? The times, they are a'changing. I guess paeans to belt-fed weapons will just have to do. |
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We drove on through Pensacola and embarked on a scenic drive through some of the Gulf Coast beaches on the Florida Panhandle. The Gulf was beautifully blue, and the sand brilliantly white. As we dipped our toes into the refreshing waters, Kristanne turned to me and said, "You know, we're pretty far from Tacoma." That pretty much called for a hug, which we shared while enjoying the sun, sand, and sea. Sometimes, this Odyssey is pretty darn great.
Otto is not really made for warm-weather camping -- although you can open all the vents on the poptop, if there's no breeze, it doesn't help that much. The air-conditioning only works when the engine is running. Even if we could run it, our air conditioner has a rather major problem -- it turns the floor beneath our feet into a soggy marsh after a couple hours of operation. Sometimes it even belches steam out the vents. I'm pretty sure these are not features Volkswagen intended. The upshot of all this kvetching is that we ended up sweating the entire night while listening to the nine (count 'em, nine) children in the site next door go careening around their site all night, screaming, baying, and crying. Cool.
The beach sure is nice, though! See you next time on the Odyssey, as we visit the birthplace (and current home) of Jimmy Carter, the 39th President of the United States. See you then!
Total Miles for 7/10 = 275