© 2016 by Marisol Cruz.

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    New Orleans Part Deux

    July 3, 2016

    On Saturday, I was wide awake at the crack of dawn.  

     

    Right around 5:30 a.m. to be exact.  

     

    I must have slept soundly.  

     

    I waited for my brother to rise and shine.  

     

    Four hours later:  he appeared.  

     

    Pablo had spent the night close to where the partying happened.  

     

    When he walked in (somewhere around 9 a.m.) he was in lively spirits, we spoke for a little bit; then, he jetted out the door to pick up sandwich meat and snacks for the big beach day.  

     

    I asked for his laptop and created a blog post before our departure. 

     

    Note to self:  twenty-somethings take a long time to get ready.  

     

    We stopped by Pablo's roommate's girlfriend's house (that's a mouthful) to pick up a few more college students.  

     

     Awkward as it might seem, my time in a chaotic living room with five or six Tulane youngsters was not as bad as I thought it would be.  

     

    We had some interesting discussions ranging from the life of a wedding planner to building indoor forts in Valencia, California to getting skin cancer sunburns on your face.  

     

    I suppose working with teenagers for a decade conditioned me to feel completely confident around individuals half my age.  

     

    By 12:30 p.m. or so, we were on the road in three different vehicles headed for Waveland, Mississippi.

     

    Interestingly, we opted for the scenic route -- the same 90 I had been on -- only this time due east,  

     

    One group stopped at a frozen daiquiri place while Pablo and I picked up a roadside watermelon.  

    Parking just across from the white sand and the water, the sun beat down on us pretty hard when we arrived.  

     

    As a group, we set down all the coolers, adjusted the seating and towels, rigged up the audio, lathered up with sun screen, and gorged on Pablo's sandwiches before jumping in the water.  

     

    Here's my best description of a Mississippi beach.  

     

    -Murky water.  

     

    -Packed sand bottoms followed by mucky, squishy sand floors.

     

    -Warm spots.

     

    -Cold spots.  

     

    -Water at depths of about a foot.  

     

    -Water at depths of about four feet.  

     

    -Water not much deeper than that.   

     

    -Soft ripples lapping your chest and face.  

     

    -Pelicans; seagulls; mullet.  

     

    In other words, a perfect beach for a non-swimmer.  

     

    Not exactly what I was used to in Florida, yet just as fun.  

     

    The Mississippi beach welcomed all:  one boogie board, four floats, a few daiquiris, eight 20-somethings, one 40-something, and one adorable dog (Chester).  

     

    We lounged, played, laughed, and posed (for selfies).  

     

    I also took photos of a girl's butt on a cooler, but that's another story.   

     

    Three and half hours later, we pack up and head back to Pablo's. 

     

    On our ride back, Pablo and I opted for cocktails at Sazerac's and dinner out on the town.  

     

    The libation on the bottom left was the one I opted for during our brief downtown NOLA night.  He ordered a warm, sipping bourbon drink.

     

    While there, we run into two bachelor parties, and one bachelorette party.  We also return a guy's flip phone.  

    You read that correctly, a flip phone.  

     

    Unfortunately, we were so exhausted from the beach that we could only stay awake for so long.  

     

    I had planned on taking Pablo to Domenica's for dinner, but the restaurant was closed for renovations.  

     

    Instead, we loaded up on a barrage of appetizers at the Fountain Lounge.  

     

    By midnight, we were home and fast asleep.  

    Until we meet again, my friend.  

     

     

     

     

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