Rather than spend our limited funds at the casino, we all pitched in a fiver on Sunday afternoon and Brant drew a makeshift craps felt on a couple strips of computer paper. We taped the sucker to the dining room table and played with nickels and quarters until we had $30 in the sailboat fund...(thinking ahead to when The Extreme Road Trip goes global and takes to the high seas).
On Monday morning it was time to take off from Treasure Isle, so we bid adieu to our gracious hosts and new-found friends and headed out to Wal Mart.
The Treasure Isle Retreat.
I know, not a big tourist destination, but before you shake your head, realize we had a purpose. Had to change the oil, and Wal Mart parking lots are not only good for spending the night, they are also ideal for changing oil. So, that done, we were required to take the rig down into the French Quarter for a beignet run.
Some would call it foolishness, to drive a 40-foot rig the width of a semi down into the narrow, crowded streets of New Orleans busiest district, but those folks would never have had such heaven as a beignet. We accomplished our secret French donut crusade successfully, filling up with too many orders of powdered-sugar-covered-fried-dough, and headed down towards the House of Blues for one final purchase: a rub board. The original purchase when first we cruised through Nawleans went over so well with Brant's mom that the orders from California's central valley had been posted and we were obliged to pick up another to spread the joy.
On the way out, down Canal Street, we saw our final taste of New Orleans flavor. A gentleman stood on the street corner, walkman in one hand and Bible in the other, dancing to his own tune. See illustration below:
Not a care in the world...
Back on the road, we drove clear up to Memphis, Tennessee, through the beautiful state of Mississippi on Highway 55. In Memphis we realized that although traveling the country has many new and different experiences, there is also a certain homogenious quality to be found from coast to coast, too. Like strip malls. In any big city (and even the not-so-big ones) you are almost guaranteed to find a Best Buy, Staples or Office Depot, Linens & Things, and the smattering of other warehouse-type, strip mall dominators plunked down in the middle of smooth black asphalt. In a way it is comforting. In another way it is sad.
So we picked our little patch of asphalt in the shade of the looming Barnes & Noble and settled in Memphis to take care of some business. Stuff that is boring to journalize about, but necessary nonetheless. (Read laundry, correspondence, writing, work.)
Our next stop shall be either Nashville or St. Louis. We'll let tomorrow decide.
