I drove to New Orleans.

The I-55/I-10 coming in to New Orleans is pretty spectacular. At some point I wound up on a... bridge? street? At what point does a car platform, sufficiently long and close to the water, become no longer a bridge and instead an over-water road? And this... thing, just did not end. Five miles later, I noticed that I had not seen an exit for a long time. Ten miles later, I was glad that I didn't have to take a leak. Fifteen miles later, I began to wonder what happened if you got on the interstate going the wrong direction 50 miles north of New Orleans. Did you just take an involuntary day drip to New Orleans?

Thankfully, none of these hypotheticals applied to me and I just kept right on cruising. The forest would come and go, interrupted by lagoons and other water features. The trees became thinner as I went south.

I saw Mordor. Or an oil refinery, it was hard to tell. Great towers of iron spurting fire on the horizon, in any case.

As I grew near to New Orleans, I saw a highway interchange in the middle of the ocean (or whatever body of water I was driving over).

New Orleans itself was nice, but nothing to write home about. I went to the French Quarter in search of some Jambalaya. And I simply couldn't find any. Places would say, oh, we used to have it, but we switched up our menu. Or, oh we have it, but we're not serving it until later in the day.

I had to settle for some gumbo at place selling swamp tours that just also happened to serve gumbo.

The buildings were nice though.

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