At my goodbye to New Orleans lunch yesterday, I tried to have a Bloody Mary. One sip was all I could tolerate. My body had begun to shut down.
New Orleans is beautiful and has the most wonderful food and entertainment. But it will kill you. When I was able to feel my liver protrude through my abdominal wall, I knew that was my sign to go.
Even though I already visited Mississippi and Alabama on this trip, I was planning to camp in one of those States, on the Gulf, for a nice quiet rest. Then I got real with myself and realized, I can’t fucking stand Alabama or Mississippi. It’s not a stereotype, they’re backward and boring. After being in the South for a while, I don’t think I could tolerate one more anti-gay, anti-Jew, anti-black, anti-everything comment. Why did we not want the South to secede?
Instead, I barreled through to Gulfbreeze, near Pensacola, Florida (Side note: When I was young I thought Pensacola was named after Pepsi Cola). Checked into a motel, ate a simple salad, drank 10 glasses of water, watched a couple get married on the beach, then went to sleep for 15 hours.