The year was 1984. All my buddies were driving to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras. Some of them were members of the notorious "Krewe of Drewe" revellers. This krewe hosts an a people's parade that begins near the levee and marches thru the streets of Gentilly. I stayed on and worked my cocktail waitress job wanting to be there with them. One of my patrons was friends with some folks in Algiers Point. He said if we jumped in my car and drove hard we could make it to New Orleans just in time for the party and parade. We drove all evening and into the early morning hours. As we glided over the Crescent City connection I missed my turn into Algiers and ambled toward Gretna. We got off on an exit 7 headed back, missed the turn (again) and I drove wrong way back up an on ramp to the bridge trying to get to our destination. The cops stopped us. We had a few things in the car that we probably should not have brought with us ( I won't elaborate now). Strangley enough, the cops took pity & directed us to the house where our friends lived on Alix street. We crept into the sleeping house. These friends were so generous that they had invited most of Louisiana and half of Arkansas to sleep on their floor. I found a little spot in the hallway and curled up dozing. I awoke a few hours later as the smell of french roast and chicoky filled the air and heard a familiar voice. I went into the kitchen and saw a boy I knew from a resturant job in my hometown. Turns out he was a New Orleans native. By afternoon I was laughing at all his jokes, by evening we were holding hands. By Fat Tuesday I was in love. I went back home and moved there 3 weeks later. New Orleans had seduced me as sure as Ric had. I stayed til things got rough between the two of us. But, even after I moved away, I kept coming back and back to New Orleans, in the land of dreamy dreams.

Tippitina's, Cooter Brown's, Coup's Place, Snug Harbor, these were my homes away from home.

Always will be too.

Cheers to the Veiux Carre and all of New Orleans.