Driving Across the Gulf- Land side

Greetings from New Orleans!

Today I drove from Pensacola, Florida, to New Orleans, Louisiana, along route 10. This is the major interstate, and it actually clings pretty close to the coast, considering that the coast ebbs and encroaches between storm and dry seasons.

I awoke determined to approach this section of my trip with a little more optimism than I have been entering previous states. I also woke with the knowledge that if I do explore New Orleans today, it will be alone, and all those voices of caution reverberated in my little, nervous skull. I've experienced anxiety before for situations like this, and come to think of it, didn't often ever attempt this type of adventure because of them. Waking up in the shitty room at the America's Best Value Inn (they weren't kidding), I thought about my lack of contacts, and the final warning I got from a dear friend, which, I must add, was the sort of warning that would (should?) stop many other travelers from this detour. This was the warning of indiscriminate murder. But I'm here, and so are lots and lots of peacekeepers, and an even better deterrant from rampant behavior- women willing to take their clothes off for strangers. I imagine, therefore, that anyone shooting for kicks will accept a different kind for a few days. So I'm here anyway.

And I'm here because of the Bayou. This drive was particularly enjoyable for me for a few specific reasons: I resolved to stay within a new mindset to relish this part of the country, the music I listened to was perfect (started with that ultra-feel-good track of the Sunscreen Song, then Bruce Springsteen, The Killers, the Cure, Ryan Adams and Whiskeytown, Dixie Chicks, and Steve Earle), and I got a very nice phone call from my mother, and that last one can set your head straight in the majority of sticky situations. This morning I wasn't sure if I could get a room let alone a real pulled pork sandwich (hell yes I'm getting one! And then getting sick and going back to my hotel), and I have not heard back from my contact in town, and I have this whole city to explore on my own, and well, that was sort of the part of this trip that I don't know if I'm good at yet. There really was no excuse though, I was 170 miles from New Orleans and it's the day before the biggest Gras of all. I mustered up all my courage, which was surpringly of such wealth that I was soon overcome with excitement, real, palpable excitement that twists your belly and swells the future with grand opportunity. So I decided to try out the cheap hotels in Metairie and set off.

At first, because I was in Florida, the road looked like Florida- tall pines in rows and columns reaching up above the marshes until they tuft at their peaks with green. Then I was in Alabama, and it still looked like Florida. In Mississippi, the highway often went over a bridge above the wetlands, with the cool blue of the gulf water bright against the dull yellow, dead grasses. The farther west I drove, the closer the water crept (I even saw a couple guys fishing next to their trucks, parked on the shoulder), and the vegetation shortened. Soon the pines were replaced by tall marsh grasses. Lining the roads were billboards upon billboards, every fifty feet or so, advertising Casinos and Resturants and cheap fuel (not so cheap after Georgia). One Casino was very proud of their current musical and dedicated six billboards in a row to describe the wonders of Hats!

I'm sorry I don't have pictures, the speed limit was 70 and although I only drive between 55 and 60, nobody else does. I liked this drive because I could intuit the country changing, from antebellum south to Cajun Country, in just three short states.