Indian summer

Yesterday was a series of adventures, moments leading from one to the next. They were all different, all significant (to me) in one way or another.

I was up early, planning on meeting my friend Paul so that we could walk to the Superdome for my first Saint's game. I'd never seen them play live and I'd never set foot in the infamous Superdome, so it was a day for firsts. It was Paul's first game as well (he's from England, where they play football with their feet).

"So this is what Sunday morning in New Orleans looks like, eh?" he said as we walked through the quite morning streets. It made me think instantly of Johnny Cash's "Sunday Morning Coming Down".

We waited for Leo and another friend (also called Paul) at Cafe Adelaide, where I ordered a mimosa and Paul had a bloody mary with so many vegetables in it that it required pruning before he could drink it. We considered the fact that New Orleans has to be a great destination for away team fans, as opposed to, say; the appeal of New Orleanians going to Cleveland to see a game.

Leo and the other Paul arrived and we wandered to the Superdome, which was only a few blocks away. We talked excitedly about the differences in attendance from pre-Katrina until now and how Leo's been a season ticket holder for ages. While we climbed the stairs to go tot he terrace where we'd be sitting, people sang "When the Saints go marching in" and chanted "who dat" in a way that made me excited to be there. I considered that New Orleans has a beautiful ability to celebrate, even in a place that could have been tainted by tragedy. When I caught a glimpse of the field, I smiled brightly, happy to be there with the company I was keeping, having another unique New Orleans experience.

The game itself was a bit of a tragedy, but it was still fun to watch. Afterwards we walked home int he rain, stopping at an Irish pub to get a drink and then wandering on after the rain had ended so that we could get something to eat. We picked up and lost people along the way, but it was all good fun.

The entire night would turn out to be a changing cast of faces, with Paul being the one constant. We'd see our way from one place to the next and others would come and go, each of them leaving something memorable of themselves behind in the story of where we'd been all day. When Paul finally made his way home with his girlfriend, I wandered home myself.

I was enjoying the Indian summer, which allowed me to wear short sleeves into the evening for perhaps the last time this year. I could smell the little bit of dampness that the day of rain had left behind and it was nice. My footsteps were the only noise I could hear, which I noticed because such quiet is rare anywhere near the French Quarter. I thought about how it was time to carve a pumpkin and that I hadn't done that in years. I thought about how I wanted to dress up for Halloween, because it'd been a while since I'd really done that too. I thought about the places, the faces, the day that I'd seen, tasted, smelled and touched and I smiled, because this is my life and right now I can't imagine wanting any other.

Exquisite distractions

I had no expectations for the day, which I find is often for the best. In having nothing in particular to accomplish, I managed to fill my day with exquisite distractions.