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I’d love to sprinkle some in and keep the nerves at bay.
Hell, after the day I’ve had, I’ll need both and a bundle of clary sage.
“Well, how do, Josie? Name’s Bernard.”
“Nice to meet you, Bernard. You’re the first good thing that’s happened on my trip so far.”
“Aw, you’re just sayin’ that.”
If only he knew.
“You comin’ here all the way across the pond and you’re going straight to the hotel? No sightseeing along the way?” Bernard tsks and shakes his head as we pull to a stop at a red light. “That’s a cryin’ shame. There’s too much of this place to see and too much to do to waste a night cooped up in some drab hotel room.”
He’s right.
I’ve been reading about New Orleans since I was little. Grand-Mère never enjoyed talking about our home, but that only made me want to know more about it. Growing up, it seemed like a fantasy world.
I have a list of places to visit that’s been growing since I was six years old, and only a three-day long weekend to check them all off. I’ll be lucky if I make it halfway through.
“On second thought, could you take me to Jackson Square? I want to check out the local artists and performers.”
Hey, if Grand-Mère can take a detour, so can I.
“Now we’re talkin’.” We change lanes suddenly, and Bernard takes the next right, rerouting our drive. “If it’s the arts you’re interested in, check out St. Louis Cathedral. There’s a walking tour that starts there and takes you through the whole French Quarter. You get to see and hear all about the rich history of the city. Not to mention, the cathedral is practically a piece of art itself.”
Honestly, most of the buildings here are masterpieces in their own right. There’s so much character in their design.
“Do you mind if I make a call?”
“Not at all. Pretend I’m not here.”
I flip through the folder of legal documents and locate the number for the funeral home that’s taking care of the USA side of things.
It takes the rest of the ride to explain what happened at the airport, but the man on the other end of the line is more than accommodating. Not only is he going to rearrange the pickup from the airport, but he’ll also oversee Grand-Mère’s transport to the cemetery tomorrow.
Which means I have until noon tomorrow to take in the beauty and magic of New Orleans.
“Thanks for the ride, Bernard. And for the chat.”
I’m feeling much more at ease now, and eager to explore a bit after driving through it all.
“You’re going to love this little city of ours.” Bernard pops the trunk open, and I grab my bag. “New Orleans really comes to life when the sun goes down.”
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.
I’ve got a good four hours before darkness descends on the city. Plenty of time to do a bit of exploring and grab something to eat before going back to the hotel.
“Laissez les bons temps rouler,” Bernard says with a wink and the tip of his hat.
Let the good times roll indeed.
I wave him goodbye from the sidewalk and watch the cab merge with the flow of traffic before I turn and take in the glory of Jackson Square.
The plaza is chaotic with people weaving in and out of each other’s paths. It’s much busier than the airport, and the excitement and wonder builds.
It feels right.
It feels like coming home.
