#113 Bourbon Street Blues

by Suzanne Gallant

“Keep coming.” Sam says, pulls me by the hand through a narrow corridor. “A meal you’ll never forget. Best food in the United States big secret hasn’t made the Food Network, hope it never does.”

“How can it be so great? It looks so dirty and unappealing.” I keep walking, this hallway feels endless. I’m out of breath from three sets of stairs. “So dark. Can’t they afford proper light bulbs? Sam, really?”

“Trust me.” He pulls me along until we step through a sliding glass door.

“Oh!” Only word to express my displeasure at the small glass-top table perched on a narrow balcony.”

“You hate it, Amanda.”

“No, not hate…”

“Give it a chance.”

“A chance for what? Food poisoning?” We sit. A young lady comes out, hands us Hurricanes. “She didn’t ask what I wanted.”

“You are a pain, you know.”

“Where’s the menu?”

“No menu.They just bring the food du jour.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Taste the Hurricane, famous drink. Look down. People pay a lot of money for this view of Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras.”

“You know I’m afraid of heights. This balcony is so rickety, what happens if it breaks off. I don’t like it here. Can’t we go back to our hotel.”

“C’mon. Stand up, let’s watch the parade. Queen is coming” Sam says, puts his arm around me. Next thing I know, I am in the middle of the parade, perched on a throne.

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