Beignets In A Black Suit? Not Good.

Another ginormous gap between posts - this time because we decided to travel without a laptop, and we have never worked out how to use Blogger's post by email function. We were in New Orleans conventioneering and drinking, and we didn't think the occasion demanded we get particularly tooled up, IT-wise.

Not that we used the freedom from laptop to actually explore the place. Five years we've been going, and we've barely strayed from the French Quarter. Round after round of parties on the epically tawdry Bourbon Street, as well as some reasonable, well, occasionally inspired, food. Including our first go at the sugar-dusted beignets, which are not a habit you want acquire, particularly if you're dressed like Johnny Cash.

In fact we took in more of the place during our ride back to the airport than two days in town gave us. William, the cab driver, a Nawlins native, recovering alcoholic and porbable ex-wild man, was good at pointing things out to us, and took us via Esplanade, fronted by grand old houses and covered in sleepy vegetation. So thanks to the obscure motivational seminar that caused us to avoid Tulane for that.

And thanks to jetBlue for restoring our faith in air travel. We'd love to be all perverse, and know that their fans can be a bit cultlike (two neighbors of our former acquaintance once hit on our roommate just because he once interviewed their CFO). But their people are all good, there is legroom, and they serve Munchies, which do for chips what Technotronic did for hi-NRG dance music.

Time for a nap.