clintswan | Sep. 4th, 2003

My trip to New Orleans this year was a interestingly good one.

I guess I will follow others in breaking events up by day.

Maybe not.

The flight out thursday was uneventful. The flight attendant was kinda a cranky bitch.
I was traveling and staying with my best friend/neighbor Randy. One of his running buddies was
also on the flight so we all sat together (Southwest Airlines-open seating).

Arrived and took a taxi to the quarter. When we got to the guesthouse, we walked in and were met
by a very stinky french young lady. She stuttered instructions to our room and looked at us oddly.

I said thankyou and closed the door in her face. (freeeeek - lol)

A bit run down, it was; but, hey, it was a room 2 blocks from all the bars!

It was around 7 o'clock by the time we got settled and Randy's tummy was very upset.
We set out to the bars. Randy had to bail about an hour afterward. I was alone.

Ah well, lets see...

I felt like a tiny piece of flotsam on the oceans of very handsome men.

And that's where this post gets undone.

For the next 3 1/2 days that feeling of being alone didn't change. I wasn't sad, per se.
I just felt like a outsider looking in. Not shunned, just out-of-phase.

I did have a good time, however.

There was no public sex on the streets, which disappointed me but was ok too.

Gosh, I had more to say but I don't feel up to it.

Any questions?