New Orleans; known as the Big Easy (which coincidently will be Trumps prison nickname) was a great break. Four nights of great food, drink and music. Although after midnight the city takes on the look of a walking dead set. Drunk, drug addled zombies wander through the streets, it’s like the local jail has thrown open its gates and said “go nuts”.
Rebecca organized a bayou tour on an airboat. The ones that look like somebody’s attached a oversized fan to a large wooden door. The bayous always remind me of the film Deliverance with a hint of Miami Vice. Our tour guide (cue banjos) was straight out of central casting: stumpy, off color with a strange smell; his teeth were not the best. We spent the next two hours racing around the backwaters of Louisiana looking for gators. Anybody caught using the term alligators, well let’s just say they don’t take kindly to those folks, or indeed anybody using the terms orthodontist or shoes.
The Year of Living Aimlessly. 