I've never been so happy to check out of a hotel. When John went down to the lobby this morning to see about coffee, the lobby was dark and deserted. At 7 am. Good-bye, forever, little sad hotel that doesn't know what it's doing.
We spent the day in New Orleans, visiting some old haunts and just walking around the French Quarter. We reminisced about the time we both got drunk and had wild sex back at the hotel. That was the first time I'd ever been hung over and wasn't sure I could get on a plane the next day.
The city is a marvel and a garbage pit, a beautiful potpourri of eclectic, beautiful people and drug users and dealers. It has art and trash. It has culture and death. It's a city of contrasts that I enjoy visiting every few years. Next time, I'd love to take in the jazz festival. We seem to miss it every time.
We had two stops on the way home and got home late, late, late. I've also never been so happy to get off a plane. I need to be home. I need to stop the changing and stimulation and rest, get some routines going and get back to life.
Thanks for the memories NOLA and the reminder of some good days we had with our former partner. I'll be back I'm sure.