March 5, 2013 – Tuesday morning

64 degrees/cloudy/calm

Covington, Louisiana

I’m tucked away in the corner of the hotel room trying to write quietly while Sargie sleeps. We had a full day on Monday, one of long rides and longer walks, and I think all of us fell into bed quickly last night. I haven’t heard any noise coming from Andy and Mollie’s room next door.

Andy on Sunday evening mowing the grass. He later grilled New York Strip steaks over charcoal.

 

Getting ready to head to New Orleans... but first, there's laundry

We left Leesville, Louisiana, Monday morning around 8:45 and drove to Baton Rouge where we stopped for several hours of shopping at an outlet mall. Sargie and Mollie flew off to explore an endless string of major brand discount stores while Andy and I bellied our way into Cabelas.

Almost loaded and ready to go

Crayfish ponds along the interstate on the way to New Orleans

I didn't know my good buddy, Uncle Bobby, owned a string of truck stops, filling stations, and casinos, in the lower 48!

You know Uncle Bobby runs a classy joint when a choice of quality cologne is offered for a quarter in the men's room

The girls are on their way for an afternoon of shopping

Inside Cabelas. So much I'd like, so little money to spend.

In the end, Sargie got a couple of new pair of shoes and a springtime rain jacket; I, a fleece marked down from $78 to $17. I like these winter clearance sales in the Deep South!

We arrived in New Orleans shortly after dark and spent some time getting unlost after the GPS spewed forth multiple erroneous instructions. I can’t say a nighttime tour of the hood was our first choice, but it was interesting. Andy made sure all the doors were locked and didn’t tarry any longer than necessary at stop signs and streetlights.

Bourbon Street was pretty much as I left it twenty-five years ago. What I can’t figure out is how I thought it was such a great place in my younger, two-fisted, drinking days, and now that my fists no longer exist, I find it loud, obnoxious, and dirty?

I was disappointed that we couldn’t get into Pat O’Brien’s, one of Bourbon Streets most famous establishments. Way back in my university grad school days, I hung out there on the weekends and occasionally played one of the two grand pianos in exchange for drinks. In the end, a plaque was hung on the wall by the table where we sat, commemorating those days of youth, enthusiasm, and stupidity. I doubt the plaque remains. No doubt there have been thousands who have been equally as stupid pass through.

My most favorite time of the evening was watching Sargie’s face as she witnessed some of the best of what Bourbon Street has to offer. She absorbed everything from dancing statues to prostitutes who proudly hawk their wares, sign-carrying comedians to Dixieland bands… none were lost on Sargie. Once again, her eyes told the tale of how she perceived Bourbon Street after dark. She said she enjoyed it. I enjoyed watching her.

Who's the goofy guy behind the sign holding a glass of beer?

Due to a lack of hotel vacancies close to the city, we drove half an hour north last night to Covington. We’ll go back to New Orleans this morning for one last visit, this time to the aquarium and/or WWII museum before returning to Andy’s later this afternoon.

It’s hard to believe that our time in Louisiana is quickly drawing to a close. Wednesday will be our last with Andy and Mollie. Hopefully all the snow that is falling in Minneapolis this morning will be gone before Thursday. We have a four-hour layover in the twin cities before continuing onto Rhinelander.

I guess I ought to start rousing the troops for another day of fun in The Big Easy. I’ll grade assignments until we leave the hotel. A man’s work is never done.

So are the tales of Pentoga by way of Covington, Louisiana…

I'm waiting for Santa to put one of these in my stocking