After more than two weeks on the road, in the air, and at sea, I have landed in Lake Charles, in Southwest Louisiana, about the only place in the state that isn't worried about flooding. I am burdened with kennel cough and the Mother’s Day card I bought as I left the United States April 29.
Airplanes, full of sneezing, runny nosed bodies caged in the seats closest to me, always seem to leach out a cold or cough in the air. On this three-week trip I have boarded nine flights, and I have two yet to go before I am home. Who knows what other germs will find me before the trip is done. And how long will this kennel cough hang on?
The Mother’s Day card is my fault. I didn’t want to mail it too soon, as April 29 was more than a week ahead of May 8. Inevitably, I mailed it too late. But I told mom she will get a card later this week that has been in Chicago, Munich, Venice, Barcelona, Philadelphia, Cleveland, New York, Minneapolis, Dallas, and now Lake Charles. That ought to count for something.
I am in Lake Charles not to gamble, which the tourists do here on boats that are permanently moored at lakes’ edges, but to eat Cajun sausage and to hunt for crabs in a tour group led by Captain Sammie, pictured at right. We will be armed with chicken necks and string. I will tell you about that in my next post.
