flotsam

Jambalaya and jazz

The conference is in New Orleans. For an outing they set up a parade to a restaurant across town, down Bourbon Street  (which smells much less strongly of urine at 5pm). 

A 5-piece jazz band gives way to the local high school band which jazzily leads us down to  the restaurant with an eclectic food mix as passed hors d’oevres and buffet which includes jambalaya to die for

Otherwise it’s loud and awkward and I strike up conversations but then withdraw to corner tables and mental if not actual quiet (I can just almost hear myself think). 

And yet for me, this is a reasonably good time. I’m glad to be here, even as I will like being home again. 

I wonder how long until they lead us back to the hotel again, and how?