by MustBTVDay sixteen of furlough. What a 24-hour period. We arrived safely in New Orleans, but “safe” is about the only thing that went as planned. Spirits were high upon arrival, caffeine steady, optimism intact, and then the city welcomed us with the unmistakable aroma of a sewage line issue at our hotel.
To say the smell was bad would be an understatement. The entire building could’ve been declared a restricted zone by FEMA. It was the kind of stench that crawls into your clothes and questions your choices. We got there around 3:30 PM, only to be told our room “wasn’t quite ready.” Judging by the scent, I think the plumbing was still trying to escape.
Meanwhile, the in-laws, stationed at a completely different hotel across the street (a much nicer one, of course), secured a $1,000 suite as an emergency fallback. It became the temporary embassy for displaced travelers, HQ Bourbon. We established diplomatic relations there immediately and vowed to never return to the gas chamber across the road unless absolutely necessary.
Dinner redeemed the day. We ate at Emeril Lagasse’s restaurant, and I had andouille and smoked turkey sausage gumbo so good it nearly erased the trauma. I ate two full bowls, each one better than the last, followed by a peanut butter pie that was downright divine. By dessert, I was ready to forgive the entire city.
Back home, Remington and the crew remain under the “not-so-watchful eye” of the boy. Reports suggest Remi has entered Stage 2 Sadness, staring at the front door like she’s expecting a presidential return. Mittens likely chairs the Couch Committee, and Tabby has assumed leadership of the Snack Allocation Board.
Morale check: recovered. Stomach blissfully full, coffee flowing, nose recovering, and the mission continuing. Two more days in New Orleans, the city of jazz, beignets, and plumbing failures.
