Two weeks from today, around this time of day, I will be in New Orleans arm in arm with two childhood friends having shared a festive lunch at a place of their choice, enjoying a festive cocktail in a bar on Royal Street. It’s a local haunt where all kinds of wonderful Quarter characters (artists, musicians, neighbors, etc.) gather to be in community, oh, and dish the dirt. I am so looking forward to this trip. At work today I perused the many menus received yesterday, occasionally interrupted by the odd person (and I do mean odd) asking if we changed watch batteries. We do not!
I drifted into obsessing about the drive to the airport, the flight to NOLA, and the ramifications of delays that could throw us off schedule.
God understood my angst. Let me explain.
I stopped at the supermarket on the way home to get a stash of food to get me through the holiday weekend. I am off on the 4th but work Saturday and Sunday to fill in as a third person, just in case it rains. NOTE: When it rains here at the beach the tourists head for one of two things: Movies or Shopping.
Anyway, I was looking for an item in the meat department that also happened to be on sale this week. Seeing no sign of the item I rang the bell for butcher service and found myself standing beside the most outgoing and cheerful woman I’ve seen lately – while most are fretting over holiday festivities and will run you over with their carts – and as we waited for the very cute butcher to respond to our inquiries, we chatted and somehow the topic of flying came up.
Don’t ask, I don’t remember.
It turns out that she’s a flight attendant with - - wait for it - - US Airways!
When I told her of my upcoming trip she smiled and told me to relax; that there are new planes in service that are more comfortable, smaller, fuel efficient, and with more leg room. In fact, she may be working my flight to NOLA, since that’s one of her semi-regular destinations.
In any event, she got her two beautiful London broils, and I got my package of boneless chicken thighs and we said our goodbyes.
I am less apprehensive and, if she was telling the truth, this is the aircraft carrying me back to the City That Time Forgot: the Embraer 190.
You know me…I’ll believe it when I see it. But, perhaps this chance meeting was a good omen.
Um, crawfish, muffalettas, shrimp/oyster/roast beef po-boys, and eggs sardo are calling my name.
* The image at the top of this post is a very bad shot of a Muffaletta sandwich.
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