New Orleans, we just can't quit you. It's been about a month since we returned from our last visit, and all I can really think about is how to get back just as soon as I can.
It is clear we might all have a serious problem. When we talk about driving somewhere, Franco will add, "and maybe then to New Orleans?" as his contribution. The other day I asked him what he wanted for lunch and he said, "Maybe some gumbo."
If it weren't for the hurricanes and my legit fear of weather, the relative cost involved, having to live in Louisiana -- which, if you look at a map, is quite far away from my Mountaineers and Steelers -- and the fact that I don't have any clue what I would do for money, I think this family could move there in a second. When we walked the French Quarter, I saw a few condos for rent and later Zillow-ed them to find out how much it would cost to live out my fantasy. (Answer: A little bit.) It does not stop the dream, for dreams can't be bound to silly real-life facts like money. Come on!
I don't know when we will return to the Big Easy, but it certainly won't be soon enough. Even though I have been there so often, so recently, there are still a million things I haven't done. (Right now, I also am reading Five Days at Memorial which means my already uncontrolled Katrina addiction is running rampant.)
I promise you, NOLA, we will be back just as soon as possible. Until then, we all shall hold tight to this little memory the wait staff at Commander's Palace bestowed upon Franco since he fell asleep before dinner's end:
Oh NOLA…until we meet again.
