DAY 18

"I wanna go down to Memphis,
I wanna talk to The King,
I wanna tell him we're sorry,
That it won't happen again...."

--O.M.D.

Hola amigos!

The key to Houston, as my dear friend Ilene drilled into my head ever-so-gently, is to go from air-conditioned environment to air-conditioned environment.

I spent 3 days at her (and her husband John's) beautiful 3-story town home almost smack dab in the middle of downtown Houston (home of the slightly sucky Astros). Bean, you couldn't have been more gracious and I thank you muchos muchos tiempos!!

I was able to take a gander at said Astros' new baseball park. Veeerrrrrry nniiiiice.... Not as good as PacBell, but it's up there.

Houston has some of the best food I've encountered on my trip, courtesy of previously thanked friends. If you are ever in town, you HAVE to go to Chuy's. It is an incredibly funky fun hip Mexican place (there are a couple locations, actually). GREAT food! And tons of it!

Also delicious: Houston's, The 59 Diner, and Kenny & Ziggy's Deli (I'm surprised you and I didn't find that last one, Eve! It's right next to the DoubleTree Hotel...)(did I get that last name right, Ilene? I just wrote "Ziggy's" but I knew there was another mensche in there somewhere)

So, does it seem as if all we did was eat? NO! We also took a field trip to River Oaks, the home of the largest, biggest, most elephantine houses/estates I've ever seen. 15,000-20,000-25,000 square feet, and more, all on 6-7-8 acres of land. These are some beautiful houses that would be a bitch to clean.

Aaaahhh, to be an employer.

I also had a few "titty bars" pointed out to me. I had my money all out, but Ilene refused to stop the car! Bitch.

I frankly could have stayed there days and days longer, and wished that I could, but The Big Easy was calling. I packed up my (YES!! NON-AIR-CONDITIONED CAR!!) vehicle and bid a semi-tearful adieu to the Nordens. And Houston.

And air-conditioning.

There should have been a sign on the Texas/Louisiana border, like those signs that stores used to use to attract people: 20 DEGREES COOLER INSIDE!! Almost as soon as I crossed over, it cooled down.

Maybe it was the violent rainstorm I was now driving through. Hmmmm....

Big fat suicidal raindrops plopped heavily against my windshield. Faster and faster they came. My wipers were having a little difficulty keeping up with the torrents. Then the inside of my windshield started fogging up. I had to roll my window down a bit, turn on my de-fogger, and squint.

BBOOOOMMMM!!!

What the FUCK??!!?? The thunder sounded like I had my ear right next to the speaker during a screening of "Twister." I actually jumped.

Weird, but I hadn't seen the lightning. I kept driving and, along with everyone else, steadily slowed down to about 45 miles an hour. I think we were all a little spooked.

Then came the light show. Every few minutes (I'm not kidding--I must have seen 40 or 50 of these things in a couple of hours) great jagged white-hot bolts of lightning appeared, lighting up the sky. A beautiful, temporary trail from the heavens to the ground. The kind of lightning you see on The Discovery Channel and think, "Glad I'm not there."

I never heard thunder again.

Welcome to Louisiana, boy.

I drove through Atchafalaya Swamp (marveling at the fact that the freeway is basically a bunch of concrete on stilts on top of marshy wet lands...and it goes like that for miles and miles), the greenest thing I've seen for two and a half weeks. Tons of trees, growing right out of the water, dripping with Spanish Moss. Cool.

You know how sometimes you just step foot in a place and you immediately feel at home, like you could just pack everything up and move here, lock, stock, and both barrels.

And that you would be happy here. Very happy.

San Francisco was like that.

New Orleans is like that, too.

I'd get to worry about hurricanes instead of 'quakes. It's always something.

Speaking of hurricanes, I am currently sitting in the French Market, sipping a Hurricane (a frozen mixture of...ummm...lots of stuff), listening to live jazz in the open early morning air.

I feel like I should be wearing a t-shirt that reads: "TOTAL TOURIST." I'll bet that my sandals and my camera say pretty much the same thing.

Not yet noon and I'm drinking. Maybe New Orleans isn't such a good influence after all.

;-)

My room is INCREDIBLE! It's actually a suite of rooms (bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom) for just $79.00 a night. There's also a lush green courtyard with a hot tub, all just a few blocks from the French Market. I love the internet.

Walking down Royal Avenue, I am overwhelmed by the buildings, the wrought iron railings. Such beauty, and people live here! All the time! They see this daily!

Cool.

Everywhere, little plaques pointing out historical significances, whether a different name for a street (under Spanish rule) or someone interesting lived/died here.

I LOVE this place! Besides, any city that offers cemetary tours is already home, eh?

Last night I was at a bar called "OZ" (lots of Emerald City and Judy Garland pictures...get it?), watching everybody dance and drink under the disco lights, the techno/house music blaring loud enough to wake the unconscious. I just watched for a while, pretending that it was the early 70s again. Hell, it could have been. Thumping music, bumping bare bodies. Wild.

As much as I've tried to resist, the alligator heads that are on sale everywhere are calling my name. We might have a new decorating accessory when I get back, Valerie. Make some room.

My combination oyster and shrimp Po Boy is here. Bye.

And, magically, I'm back (yes, there's a wee bit more).

The voodoo/cemetary tour I took was a hoot. We got to visit the oldest cemetary, St. Louis Cemetary #1 (accept no substitutions), where the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans is buried (I left her name at the hotel room...Marie Leveaux? That's close...) and where they filmed part of Easy Rider. Also saw the most frightening, evil house in New Orleans: the house where Richard Simmons was raised.

Next time I visit (and there WILL be a next time, kids) I think I'll stay at the Bourbon Orleans Hotel, supposedly the most haunted hotel in all Louisiana.

The drive to Memphis, from whence I type now, was uneventful. Lots more trees, lots more elevated highways. Things are beginning to blur together. To look like every other place I've driven. Not a good sign.

Tomorrow, I'm going to Graceland.

St. Louis next, and then...?

All my hot monkey love,

--Mike

P.S. Someone suggested a party to take the place of July 4th and to welcome me back to California. What do y'all think? first week of August? 2nd week? Will the house be done by then, Val? Lemme know....