New Orleans to Grand Isle


July 30, 2013

On Tuesday morning I went out and did the only respectable thing a tourist would do and went to the French Market and had beignets and coffee. I wouldn’t normally eat fried bread dough with a half inch of powdered sugar on it but I am on vacation.


I don’t know what it is either

I spent a couple of hours wandering around the French Quarter admiring the pretty buildings that are throughout the area. Bourbon Street looked like it had a hangover and there were people cleaning it up getting it ready for whatever festivities were going to break out that night.


Pretty building

I went back to the hotel and called Enterprise and sure enough,’they picked me up’. Once I got a car I headed out of the city and down the bayou as folks around here would call any trip heading south. There are a lot of people that find it hard to imagine that there is anything South of New Orleans but that is where Margaritaville is.

I drove slowly along the edge of Bayou Lafourche as it wandered south through the swamps and marches. I ended up at Grand isle which is little more than a large sand bar that sits a little off of the coast of Louisiana. Grand Isle is the launching point for any number of oil drilling operations in the Gulf of Mexico. Over the years it has slowly become a resort community with its long sandy beaches and good fishing attracting people to build vacation homes there which they call ‘camps’.


And then I got to Margaritaville. Some of you may remember my 12,000 mile trek a few years back that I spent looking for Margaritaville. The original Margaritaville is in Key West, Florida. But Margaritaville is a state of mind and the closest I have every gotten to that state of mind is my sister and brother-in-law’s camp in Grand Isle. It is called the Milky Way as my brother-in-law had owned the local dairy for many years.


The Milky Way

Funny enough it was five o’clock although the clock said one. The beer began to flow. Hugs went around to all of the relatives there. And then the stories and the beer flowed on and on. I got to catch up with a couple of my beautiful nieces and got reacquainted with some of their kids.

At some point the alleged Crab Queen, my sister Belle, move the entire operation down to the beach so we could catch some crab. Or I should say, try to catch some crab. But the crabs had some other ideas so we just sat there and watched the waves lap the beach and the daylight flitter away. In Magaritaville you just sort of let things happen.

We headed back to the camp where we went to plan B which was to eat crab that Belle had been accumulating for a few days. So the boil pot was lit, the crabs met their fate and we went up to the air conditioned living area and ate crabs. All the extra crab ended up in niece Dee’s stash of crab meat that she takes back to Texas with her.

After dinner we sat outside and swatted mosquitoes and watched the occasional bug suicide in the bug zapper. Some where in there people drifted off to bed and the end of a perfect day came.


The only thing missing is me.


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