Day One: Concealed Weapons and Rain Delays

I promised some stories about our adventures in New Orleans and figured today was as good a day as any to uphold that promise.

Funny thing is I've been on the phone with FEMA today. Kind of ironic considering where we just came back from... But suddenly FEMA has decided that my townhouse is now considered in a Special Flood Hazard Area. I asked precisely what this meant and it means that "there is a possibility that my house could flood ONCE within one hundred years". My mortgage company is now insisting I get flood insurance or they will GIVE it to me. Of course by giving it to me they mean "we will tack this onto you current mortgage payment at an exorbant fucking fee". So now I either have to go through some red tape bullshit to obtain a LOMR from the fuckers or pay $1200 dollars a year for flood insurance. And that lovely quote was from my insurance company that holds my car insurance and homeowner's policy. What amount do you think the mortgage company wants to charge? I asked. They couldn't tell me.

Sweet Mother of Pearl. Michael warned me about the infamous Baileys Bad Luck. I generally have pretty good luck. We've been married nine days. I'm now convinced I've married into a curse. Wonderful.

The next time that tiny creek which runs through my neighborhood raises the slightest bit I'm calling FEMA to have them pull in a trailer. They're going to require proof of damage. I'm going to show them my flood insurance statement and a note from my physician declaring "mental anguish". Absolute bullshit.

As usual I digress. I blame it on mental anguish so register all complaints about the lack of promised adventure content with FEMA.

On the upside I finally got my Girlscout cookies! YAY for Caramel deLites!

Monday, March 10th

Our first excursion at the airport was pretty uneventful. I had printed off directions to BWI and we made that trek with no difficulties. We even arrived a little over two hours early as was recommended. Obtained our e-tickets and checked our baggage. Michael and I decided to step outside for that final smoke before heading through security.

It was while standing outside on the curb getting that final fix for the next four hours that it dawns on me that in our possession we have a small knife. The small knife is built in to one of those clips that you put keys on (or repel from cliffs with, depending on your preference). I'm rather attached to this clip since Kevin gave it to me and it's damned handy. It's too late to check it. They have our luggage. It's too far to take it back to the Jeep. Michael suggested hiding it in the shrubbery. To me this sounds absurd so I make the decision that we'll just take it with us through security. The worse that can happen is that they confiscate it (aka throw it away).

At this point I could have cried. Stupid reason to cry but I was really stressed about the whole flying aspect of it (I'm afraid of heights and claustrophobic). I needed coffee. I was PMSing. And I needed sleep. Which I was convinced wasn't going to happen on the plane. Thinking about not getting sleep is enough to make me cry under any circumstance.

I placed the keys in Michael's care and off to security we went. Michael goes through one line and I go through another. Empty pockets, jackets off, shoes off (and I pat myself on the back for having the foresight to wear my slip on Chucks), and off my stuff goes into the Xray machine. I keep glancing over to see where Michael is in this whole process. He's still taking off his shoes.

Through the metal detector I go. Gather my things and wait for Mike. Damned if he doesn't set the detector off. FUCK. It was his belt. Back through and he's gathering his things. We get a respectable distance away from security and I demand to know what happened. They said nothing.

At this point I'm relieved to the point I could cry. I then feel very gleeful that we've pulled it off. Then very worried about how easy it was. Then I say fuck it because at this point I just needed coffee. It didn't even matter that it was the worst cup of coffee I've ever experienced in my life.

On to Houston! Yeah, we had a layover there. Because for some reason it's cheaper to obtain a ticket with layovers instead of flying directly to one's destination. Makes absolutely no sense to me either.

The flying thing to Houston went well. I managed to sleep quite soundly. I'm not too keen on the landing aspect of it and neither is my stomach. We arrive and immediately seek somewhere we can grab a smoke. Easier said than done. We end up outside again which means we're going to have to go back through security with our concealed weapon (the knife is just a little over an inch long and about as sharp as a nail file). Yet again we make it through security and so does the clip. WOO HOO. Life is good.

Back on the plane where we were delayed because of rain. No problem for me. I figured I'd grab a nap. Every now and then the pilot would come across and announce it would be about ten more minutes... then fifteen. I slept and Michael was left to entertain himself. We sat on that runway for almost two hours. Finally we took off. Where I commenced to sleeping some more. I can now stand by my affirmation that I can sleep anywhere, anytime. I can attest to this because I kept getting seats that didn't recline and although not comfortable, the window makes an excellent place to lay one's head. So does Mike's shoulder.

We finally arrive in New Orleans. Now comes the dreaded baggage claim (groan). It couldn't have been more perfect. Our suitcases were already staged and waiting for us! (See... good luck, people.) Grab a cab and off to the Maison St. Charles we go.

Check in, dump our bags, contemplate eating at the Wendy's next door and decide we've been waiting months for some cajun dishes so to hell with Wendy's. Off to the Quarters we go.

Or so we thought. After all that sitting we thought we'd walk the mile to the Quarters. (Key note: generally whenever a hotel states that they are within "walking distance" of the Quarters it is a boldfaced exaggeration. I won't say lie. Because technically the Quarters are within walking distance from our humble little townhouse here in Virginia. It's all relative as to what one considers "walking distance"). The walk would not have been bad had we not walked about 8 blocks in the opposite direction. I realize this and we turn to head back the other way. Wendy's was looking damn good at this point when we walked by but at this point we were determined to get some food in the Quarters.

Quick jaunt down Bourbon Street so Mack could see what all the hype was about, and then we located "The Gally House" on the corner of Toulouse and Chartres. We both ordered the sampler (replete with gumbo, jamablaya, red beans and rice, and cajun sausage) and it was insanely good! We moved onto their bread pudding with a rum sauce which was a delectable orgasm on a plate. Seriously, if you want phenomenal bread pudding and end up in New Orleans then "The Gally House" is the place to go. Hell, I might even go so far as to say that it's worth the trip down there just for the bread pudding... See if you can guess their secret ingredient :) Generally not a big fan of their secret ingredient but it was very subtle.

A little more siteseeing and we make the walk back to our hotel where we shower and crash promptly.

The next morning finds us in bed watching the weather channel so we can revel in the warm temperatures that await us and laugh at, I mean sympathize, with our loved ones up north who are probably freezing as they shovel snow. At this point we come across a piece of information that we found pretty amusing since the danger had passed and we had been completely oblivious to at the time.

That two hour "rain delay" in Houston was actually because of a funnel cloud that had developed over the airport....

And here I was worried about that damn clip.