A night in NOLA
"C'est la vie!!" we yelled out every few blocks. Our personal little french friend (who also doubles as my dancing valley girl heart-mate) helped us pretend we were more cultured than the wide-eyed fascination on our faces implied. Not to mention the camera around my neck. Tourists for life! Please and thank you!
I wore this dress one night on the streets of New Orleans. We were waiting at the trolley stop at 10:30pm to head home, because that's how we prefer to party people. A bus drove by blaring Drake, or something comparable, and we did our civic duty and danced in response. Beads!!! They threw beads! And just before our trolley arrived we made friends with a near comedy act in flamingo pants. Brunch suggestions offered, of course.
"But how do you say 'goodnight' in French??" I asked in the dark, head to pillow, yawns the only music now. The long-life friend beside me starts the laughing train that's hard to get off. And then we dreamed of beignets.