Day 4 - Becoming a cultural Cajun

What a restless night.  A car alarm sounded for nearly half an hour.  At least four of my roommates snored simultaneously through the night, each with a unique tone and pitch.

Same routine as yesterday morning - climb down the bunk, shoes on, backpack on, hit the bathroom, fill up canteen and out the door.  But this time I catch the trolley for a relaxing trip down Canal Street.  Jump off at Chartres Street.  Hardly anyone is out at this hour.  The skies are clear yet the temperature cool.  I arrive at St. Louis Cathedral a few minutes before mass begins allowing me time to snap a few shots.

Interior of St. Louis Cathedral

The first reading is from Ezekial 47: 1-9 where it talks about his vision of the new Israel where a river flows east from the southern side of the temple and empties into the sea and the river is too deep to wade and there is an abundance of life on the banks of the river and fish in the waters of the river.  It's interesting to point out that directly south of the cathedral the deep waters of the Mississippi River actually flow east and soon after empty into the sea.

The cathedral and Jackson Square

Today is a half day at work.  The place is dead.  Hardly anyone comes to our booth.  I get a complimentary blood pressure test.  115/67, perfect.  Say farewell to everyone and then change clothes and hit the streets.  Today I am on a mission to eat alligator.

Tantalizing items on The Market Cafe menu

I settle on a pleasant welcoming restaurant called The Market Cafe at 1000 Decatur Street in the French Quarter.  I order a plate of fried breaded tender alligator tail meat and a cup of gumbo which is a local favorite that dates back to the original Cajuns and is a soup made of sausage, shrimp, rice and vegetables.  Both dishes are delicious!  Everyone told me that alligator tastes just like chicken.  I disagree.  I think it has it's own unique flavor that may be similar to chicken yet the texture is more chewy.  The gumbo is by far my favorite.  I could eat it forever.  The waitress offers me a dessert.  I almost never eat sugary foods but, what the heck, this is New Orleans and I want to experience a little more of what they have to offer.  She suggests their bread pudding.  Wow!  This stuff is fantastic.  An exquisite rich flavor that reminds me of the flan my wife makes.  I have to eat it very slowly as I can feel the effects of the sugar.

Mmmm, alligator!

Delicious gumbo

Bread pudding

A block east on Decatur Street is the French Market Place - a covered open-air market with independent booths offering everything from fresh fruit to cured pig's feet and wardrobe accessories such as beads and Mardi Gras masks, leather belts, and dresses as well as popular souvenir items.

Cafe in the French Market Place selling gator bites, crawfish,  pig's feet and other delicacies

I make my way east to Esplanade Avenue before strolling back admiring the architecture and charm of the French Quarter on Chartres Street.  Horse-drawn carriages roll down the street amidst cars and skateboarders.  Multiple means of transportation travel along together down the narrow street walled in by brick buildings with ironworks balconies colorfully decorated with green foliage and Mardi Gras decorations.

Decatur Street

 Making my way along the river it's time to visit Algiers Point.  I want to catch the sunset over the city and Algiers Point will provide a great vantage point overlooking the river.  Along the river locals and tourists alike are out for an afternoon stroll or just sitting on the grass enjoying the Big Easy. 

Banks of the Mississippi

Further upriver the Natchez riverboat has just departed for an evening cruise.  It is beautifully decorated and maintains the classic Mississippi riverboat appearance.  It's bright red paddle wheel powerfully propels it forward leaving a wake of rapids behind. 

Natchez riverboat

At the end of Canal Street is the ferry that transports people (free) and vehicles ($1.00) across the river to Algiers Point.  People board the vessel on the upper deck while vehicles drive onto the lower deck.  The trip across river is only about 10 minutes.  First impressions of Algiers Point is that there isn't much to see, as far as tourism goes.  That's the case at least from what can be seen from the river.  There is a quiet neighborhood ahead and what seems to be a ship building yard along the bank.

Crossing the Mississippi to Algiers Point

Algiers

Algiers Point is a great place to relax.  I spend some time along the bank of the river, eat some fresh fruit I purchased at the French Market, and watch the transoceanic ships travel upriver as I wait for the sun to set.

The shore of the Mississippi River on Algiers Point

The sun sets and the dusk sky becomes a brilliant blue like tanzanite.  Cool breezes sweep across my face and arms.  The city lights sparkle like diamonds across the river.  The scene is picture perfect.

Downtown New Orleans cityscape

The short visit to Algiers relaxed and soothed my soul.  The quiet time spent along the river was well spent.  I return to the other side and make one last visit to Bourbon Street.  There is a certain energy that just draws me there.  I don't drink or hang out in bars but it's a really fun place just to people watch.  There's always a show and everybody is having a great time.  Beads are tossed randomly from the second floor balconies.  Music pours out from every saloon.  Employees are on the sidewalks advertising their bar's drink specials.  Tourists pose for pictures.  In short, laughter and good times fill the street.

Thrilled with their newly acquired beads, and no skin was shown in exchange

Gas lanterns are very common to see on the exterior walls of buildings

At a different corner of Bourbon Street I meet the lady with the hotdog stand that was at the scene of a fight two nights earlier.  She remembered me and said she felt bad for the guy that was arrested.  He ended up just receiving a citation.  I told her that it wasn't her fault and he was responsible for his actions.  There was no need for him to start a fight.  She added that he has been going through tough times and has a problem with aggression.  She asks where I'm from.  I tell her San Diego.  She says she was in San Diego two weeks ago to visit her son who is a marine stationed at Camp Pendleton.  Small world.

Back at the hostel I prepare for bed.  This is my last night sleeping here and tomorrow will be the last day of my New Orleans experience.  I relax for a few minutes in the living room watching some comedy show.  This is a fun place, I would definitely stay here again.  I'm starting to feel like a Cajun.  Of course, I could never be a pure Cajun but rather a cultural Cajun which is someone of non-Cajun origin who becomes Cajun through cultural immersion.  Well, tomorrow I will be leaving early for a swamp tour.  I'm looking forward to it.  Good night.......

Living room at the India House

Sitting room

There's a peculiar piece of garment hanging on the mantle here

Day 3 - A Stormy Outlook

Alarm sounds at 6 am.  Climbing down a squeaky narrow bunk ladder while still half asleep is both challenging and dangerous.  I manage to get myself down to the floor, put on my shoes, grab my backpack and hit the shower.  Quick shower and shave, fill my canteen, hoist my backpack over my shoulders and I'm ready to go.  Out the door at 6:45 am. 

Today is cloudy and cooler than yesterday.  In fact, the weather report predicts thunderstorms.  I need to hurry to get to 7:30 am mass.  I jog a little, than walk fast, jog some more, walk fast.  Along the sidewalk I happen to notice a familiar plant.  It's the plantain herb.  I pick these in the wild in California.  It is one of the most nutritious and beneficial plants that exists.  I pick four long leaves, sit down on a nearby bench, rinse them off and eat.  Nothing like fresh veggies to start your day. 

Plantain herb

Continuing on I realize that I'm just not going to make it to mass on time so I just walk the rest of the way to the river.  Today I need to find a Chase Bank so I can withdraw some money.  I refuse to pay withdraw fees at another branch ATM machine.  Then I will be able to take the trolley to church tomorrow morning. 

There's a ferry boat that transports vehicles and people across the river to Algiers Point.  Vehicles pay one dollar and people are free.  The ferry operates all day till midnight.  It's 8:30.  Time to get to work.

Ferry to Algiers Point

Another day of lying around and watching my heart at work.  It's amazing to think that all the cells of the body rely on the continuous pumping action of the heart to keep the blood flowing.  It never rests.  It reminds me of how important it is to respect the body and provide it with the proper nutrients it needs to give reliable unfaltering service for a longer more productive life. 

One of the local models working the same booth as me had recommended to one of the ultrasound company representatives a nice little restaurant in the Garden District called Atchafalaya located on Louisiana Street.  She spoke highly of the cuisine and was so happy he recommended it to her.  She added that it is a beautiful house of the typical New Orleans architecture and it has been converted into a restaurant.  Sounds good to me, I will definitely check it out.

My shift is over at 4:30 pm.  I change into jeans and a T-shirt, chomp down a handful of almonds and hit the streets. 

I located a Chase Bank branch with my phone's internet service.  It's on St. Charles Avenue on the edge of the Garden District, a couple miles walking distance.  The weather has become more cloudy and windy.  Maybe those thunderstorms will arrive after all.  I walk west to St. Charles Avenue and follow it south admiring the architecture, the trolley cars, the giant oaks with vines scaling the thick trunks, and mardi gras beads still lying on the sidewalk or hanging from the trees and power lines.  At the intersection of Jackson Avenue I sight the bank.

St. Charles Avenue

Memories of Mardi Gras

My wallet replenished it's time to continue my walk and find a place to eat.  Atchafalaya is about a mile away.  I walk down Jackson Avenue towards Magazine Street.  I really want to find a place to eat but I keep getting distracted with all the beautiful sights.  I keep my camera busy shooting architecturally interesting homes and churches.  One amazingly gorgeous mansion on Jackson Avenue is being occupied by a film crew.  Several trucks are parked on the street and lights and cranes are being set up on the property.  I assume it's for the TV series "Treme" which is shot in New Orleans. 

Mansion on Jackson Avenue

It takes me an hour to cover five blocks.  I follow Magazine Street west until Washington Avenue and then turn right to make a visit to the Lafayette Cemetery.  It is now dusk and the cemetery is closed but that doesn't stop me from taking a peak.  I set the timer and raise my camera up above the high concrete walls with the use of an adjustable extension arm.  The dark grey sky and dim lighting create an eery haunted image of the tombs.  The cemetery closes at 2 pm so I will make sure I return on my last day for a thorough visit.

Lafayette Cemetery #1

The sky is darkening as night sets in.  The wind blows harder and drops of rain begin to intensify.  I decide to abort efforts to find Atchafalaya and begin walking back to St. Charles Avenue.  I will need to buy something to make change so I can pay the buck twenty-five for the trolley to take me to Canal Street.  Maybe I'll try the buffet at Harrah's Casino. 

As I'm walking down St. Charles Avenue I receive a call from my brother in South Carolina.  He asks, "Did that storm hit you yet?".

"Not yet, it's just been sprinkling a little", I answer.

At that moment a flash of light fills the sky above me and the sound of thunder roars.  Immediately follow an intensifying rain and powerful gusts of wind pushing me from behind.  I yell into the phone, "It's here now!  I gotta go, I'll call you back!"

I race a few blocks hunching over to protect my camera until I get to the awning of a building.  Desperately I stow away my camera.  A large door mat is hurled at me from behind by a gust of wind.  I throw my pack on my back and continue running down the street.  Lightning continues all around.  At the corner of Jackson Avenue I see a convenience store and sprint to the door. 

Dripping wet I search for a few items to eat.  I settle on a can of sardines and a small bottle of milk.  Now I have change for the trolley.  As I exit the door an emotionally and educationally under-developed youth smiles and says, "See ya cocky ass".  I simply wave and walk away. 

The rain is still falling and lightning continues to the south and east.  I take shelter under the awning of a shop next to a bar and eat the sardines and drink the milk.  This is a good place to relax and enjoy the rain.  A couple hurry up the street and tell me about a lightning strike two blocks down.  Apparently a bolt of lightning struck down a tree.  The rain is now reduced to a sprinkle so I load up my gear and go check it out.

Protection from the rain

There it is, a tree splintered at the lower trunk and lying across the trolley cables.  Ah, that's why I haven't seen the trolley go by lately.  A security guard for Zea Rotisserie and Grill is working his night shift at the front door.  We start talking.  He's a local, lived here all his life.  Shares about his fishing trip at Lake Pontchartrain this morning.  I love fishing too.  He often catches redfish, speckled trout, flounder and catfish.  We admire the results of the lightning strike.  Katrina inevitably comes up in the conversation.  He says that many of his family members he hasn't seen since.  They left the area and never returned. 

Tree splintered by lightning strike

I guess I will have to walk back now.  It's about 9 pm.  Canal Street is a mile away.  The streets are empty, obviously due to the storm.  Strong gusts continue from time to time.  Some street signs have been blown down.  A lamp from a streetlight lies shattered on the sidewalk.  Falling objects seem to be the greatest danger in a stormy scenario like this. 

Shattered lamp on sidewalk

At Canal Street the trolley car sits motionless.  I will obviously have to walk back to the hostel.  As I cross the intersection of Canal and Bourbon an agitated man starts yelling at another.  He was accusing him of being too close to a hotdog cart parked at the corner.  The agitated man reaches for the other man and a fight commences.  They both throw off their jackets into the street and start to throw punches.  Within ten seconds a police car rolls up to the scene.  A large uniformed officer gets out, grabs the aggressor and lays him over the hood in a shoulder wrench hold.  Within a minute four more patrol cars arrive on the scene.  A woman comes out saying that she had asked him to watch over her cart while she went to the bathroom.  Since I was the only person there that actually witnessed the fight I gave my eye witness testimony to the police and was on my way. 

Eventually I make it back to the hostel.  Some areas feel a little unsafe so I hurry through thus getting a pretty good workout with thirty pounds on my back.  I waste no time and go straight to bed.  Will be up early in the morning. 

Day 2 - Exploring the famous French Quarter

Weeks before this trip I had checked out and read Fodor's updated 2011 guide to New Orleans from the library, so I have a general idea of things I'd like to see and a familiarity with the layout of the city.  The French Quarter is of particular historical interest to me and is very close to the convention center.  Plus, there are numerous restaurants to entice my taste buds to try some Cajun cuisine.  Two things I am bent on eating - alligator and crawfish.

One of the representatives at the ultrasound booth mentioned something about a monument to Katrina in a little park at the end of the convention center, so at the end of my work shift I use a restroom stall  to change into my street clothes and go out to search for the monument.  There it is, right across the street from the south end of the convention center, a small hurricane-ravaged house stuck in a tree.  The "Scrap House" is fabricated out of natural and recycled materials by artist Sally Heller.

"Scrap House" by Sally Heller

Canal street marks the southern boundary of the French Quarter.  I've realized that locals don't pronounce "canal" like we do in California.  Instead, the locals pronounce it as "CUN-el".  Running northeast from Canal Street are Bourbon Street, Royal Street, Chartres Street (pronounced CHAW-tuhs), and Decatur Street which is the first I choose to explore.

The French Quarter is the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans.  Many of the buildings date back to the 1800's, a few are from the late 1700's.  The distinct architecture is complimented by the beautiful ironwork balconies many of which are still decorated with strings of beads from the recent Mardi Gras celebration.  Restaurants, bars, gift shops and clothing stores stand side-to-side along both sides of the street.  I wander into Zydeco Blues cajun country store which sells unique souvenirs.  A huge mounted alligator hangs from the ceiling.  A small table is stacked with cans of Cajun-style alligator in front of a box full of small dry-cured alligator head souvenirs.

Five blocks up the street I finally decide to eat at Cafe Maspero.  The atmosphere is pleasant and the menu not too expensive.  I am starved and a plate of Cajun jambalaya sounds like a good introduction to the local gastronomy.  It basically consists of a mixed pile of rice, gulf shrimp, sausage, chicken and vegetables with a piece of garlic bread on the side.  I wash it down with a glass of milk and am completely satisfied.  One Cajun food experience fulfilled.  No cards, only cash is accepted here, I leave a tip and out the door.

Cajun jambalaya

Taking a break away from Decatur Street I cross over to walk along the river.  The steamboat Natchez is receiving passengers for a short cruise on the river.  People are relaxing on benches or strolling along the river.  A short distance down river I spot the tall spires of a structure that can only be Saint Louis Cathedral.

Saint Louis Cathedral, the oldest cathedral in the U.S.

The steps along Decatur Street provide a fantastic view of the cathedral with Jackson Square in the foreground.  Horse-drawn carriages pick up tourists for a prancing tour of the Quarter.  Saint Louis Cathedral is the oldest cathedral in the United States.  I had wanted to attend mass this evening but unfortunately there are no evening masses.

Horse equipped for carriage tours.  Spire of the cathedral in background.

 Around Jackson Square and in front of the cathedral local artists and musicians gather promoting their talents.  I find myself now on a narrow quaint street called Saint Ann.  A few blocks up and loud music and beer guzzling tourists proliferate.  I must have reached the famous Bourbon Street.

A mostly toothless one-eyed man observes me taking photographs of the street corner and starts talking to me.  He offers to take me on a walking tour of the Quarter and promises me great photograph opportunities.  He claims to be homeless.  I ask him when the French Quarter was settled.  He says, "In the 1700's they used to bring slaves up river for the slave trade".  I was looking for a more detailed answer but I guess that will work for me, however, I turn down his tour guide offer.  The sun has set and I should be making my way to the hostel to check in.  I give him a buck and make my way up Bourbon Street toward Canal Street.

Bourbon Street

The atmosphere is alive with tourists out for a good time.  Bar after bar line the street.  A few tourists stagger along with beer in hand.  An old three-legged dog leashed to the entrance of a bar lies along the sidewalk.  He has so much character I spend at least half an hour photographing the old dude.

Three-legged dog on Bourbon Street

I had informed the hostel that I would be checking in at about 7 pm.  I could spend hours people watching on Bourbon Street but it's already 8 pm so I should make my way to Canal Street and get on a trolley.

The old trolley car rolls slowly up the middle of Canal Street stopping at every cross street.  Vehicles travel the street on either side.  There are no barriers or fence separating the trolley from the rest of the street.  Pedestrians can freely walk along or cross the tracks.  The fare is a buck twenty-five.

The trip to the India House on the cross street South Lopez is only about 15 minutes.  I found this hostel online.  It appears to be quite popular and is conveniently located along the trolley route on Canal Street.  The India House Backpackers Hostel is an old architecturally gorgeous house that's been transformed into a hostel.  I had booked a bed in a dorm room for $18 per night.  I pay with the last remaining cash I have.  They only accept card payments of $80 or more.  I ask the front desk attendant why so few places accept cards in New Orleans.  He isn't quite sure but believes it may have to do with the high crime rate and fraudulent use of stolen credit cards that the service charge fees imposed on businesses that accept credit and debit cards is very high in New Orleans. 

He shows me around the house.  There is a living room, sitting room, kitchen and dining room that are all cozy and welcoming.  The decor inside the house is very liberal and celebrates various pagan cultures and encourages a life void of discipline or limits.  The local voodoo and gypsy culture is apparent as well.  Over the television there are movie posters of "Indiana Jones" and "The Shining".  Yellow lace panties hang from the mantle of the fire place in the sitting room.  Several people are relaxing either reading or using their laptops.

In the backyard is a patio with a bar, an above-ground swimming pool with wooden deck decorated with pirate flags and painted mermaids on the walls.  Wooden shed-like structures contain the dorm rooms and unisex bathrooms.  International travelers are hanging out drinking and socializing while music plays.  The attendant shows me the room I will be sharing with seven other guys.  He hands me my sheets and pillow and gives me a choice of two top-level bunks.  I choose the one farthest from the door.

Click here to visit the India House website

A friendly man in his 40's walks in and says hello.  He introduces himself as Burkhardt.  He is from Germany and is staying here for three months.  He speaks very good English and shares about his bicycle accident resulting in a knee injury.  He seems to walk fine though.  He goes back outside to join the party on the patio.  The music is loud, the dormitory door is wide open because it is rather warm and humid, but despite all this I am exhausted and need to get some rest.  I have absolutely no cash left so I will have to walk the two miles to the convention center in the morning but I want to try to attend morning mass at 7:30 am so I will need to leave at about 6:30 am.

Bed made, batteries charging, alarm set, backpack next to me so I don't roll off the top bunk, I lie down for a Cajun slumber at about 11 pm.  Good night........................

Day 2 - This is New Orleans!

The sounds of foot traffic and voices slowly transport me from my slumber to a very drowsy state of cosciousness.  During my few short hours of rest I hardly slept but mostly tossed and turned.  Check the time, it's only 4:30 am.  Travelers are pouring in to catch early morning departures.  I roll into a sitting position, load my gear on my back and stagger over to the restroom to clean up and change into my work clothes.  It's easy to spot an ulltrasound model amidst all the medical professionals.  The standard wardrobe is dark shorts, white T-shirt and sneakers. 

I will probably take an airport shuttle bus downtown for twenty bucks rather than risk being late taking the city bus and trolley which may not have reliable schedules and being Sunday the city bus doesn't begin service until 7:30.  After a quick breakfast consisting of a can of smoked herring and a handful of almonds, sunflower seeds and prunes I kill some time until the shuttle buses begin operating.  At about 7:45 am I'm on my way as the only passenger in the shuttle bus.  The driver is a New Orleans native.  He shares with me about local events, the weather and of course, Katrina. 

The skies are clear and the climate feels warm and humid.  Perfect.  The twenty-minute ride to the convention center allows me to see some neighborhoods, the Super Dome, downtown and the warehouse district.  The flat landscape limits seeing anything beyond the adjacent streets.

The convention center is buzzing with attendees and exhibitors picking up their badges or registering.  A fellow model is arriving at the same time.  We sign in early and greet the ladies from the agency.  As I make my way to the exhibition hall I see some more familiar faces.  Several other guys I've worked with before are also working this event, as well as plenty of local newbies. 

My work day will basically be the same each day with very little variation.  I lie down on a bed (similar to a massage table), shirt off, and next to me is an ultrasound machine.  These are smaller portable units that are used for a number of applications.  Every body is familiar with the use of ultrasound to observe a baby in the womb but it's application goes into many other aspects of medicine and healthcare, from cardiac to musculoskeletal imagery.  I've seen nearly everything beneath my skin.  I've watched my heart at work, seen blood travel through my carotid artery, observed pleural sliding of my lungs, seen my kidneys, liver and other organs, followed the ulnar nerve down my arm, observed the collapse of my inferior vena cava with the sniff test, and so much more.  While I lie there, an ultrasonographer scans my heart through the "windows" (intercostal spaces) between the ribs.  This event is the American College of Cardiology so the focus is on the heart.  The ultrasonographer demonstrates the capabilities of their company's ultrasound machines to prospective buyers. 



Ultrasound model working hard,... or hardly working?

 I am fascinated with the complexity of the human body and how perfect and precise it all functions together.  This realization gives me more conviction to take care of my body, exercise often and feed it properly, and importantly too, not ingest "foods" that harm the body.

Having slept very little in the past day I struggle to stay awake while working so hard.  That's the big challenge.  The day is uneventful except for a visitor near the booth who suddenly collapsed, threw-up and went into convulsions.  I suppose this couldn't have happened to him at a more appropriate place since the place crawling with hundreds of doctors.  He was promptly attended to and medical emergency personnel treated him and rolled him out on a stretcher.  I don't know what his diagnosis was.

During my lunch break I get out of the convention center and head to the river.  It's an almost uncomfortable 85 degrees with quite a bit of humidity.  The sun pierces my skin.  Next to the convention center is the River Walk mall.  Inside there is a flurry of people purchasing fast food from a number of restaurant outlets.  On the balcony outside I enjoy a view of the Mississippi while eating my lunch.  You guessed it, smoked herring and almonds, sunflower seeds and prunes.  This is my basic travel food.  It's convenient, inexpensive, and quite healthy.  No refrigeration is required, nor preparation of any kind.  It's also an ideal meal when I'm working these ultrasound events because it is light and easy to digest.  A heavy fatty meal would cause indigestion, gas, and general discomfort when lying down on the ultrasound table. 

The mighty Mississippi River

There's not really a lot to see of the river, at least not from this vantage point.  There's the Crescent City Connection bridge (pictured above) and a lot of cargo ships traveling up and down river.  The muddy waters churn with all of the conflicting currents caused by so many deep hulls.



Construction along the river bank and cargo traveling upriver

 At 4:00 pm I'm done with work and it's time to explore New Orleans!  Where should I begin?

First Night

Beneath the clear starry-night sky concentrated areas of tungsten illumination dot the land below.  As the aircraft descends I peer through the window towards the horizon and can unmistakingly identify the Gulf of Mexico in the distance as the lights below come to an end clearly tracing the southern shoreline of Louisiana.  Some sections below are predominantly yellow-lighted and I assume those are oil refineries.  Several can be seen as the plane turns over the southern bayous to approach the airstrip for landing.

It's nice to be on my feet again.  Flying always makes me a little nervous.  Just this thing about 30,000 feet distance between me and the ground.  Check the time,... it's 10:40 pm and I am officially in New Orleans.  The airport is unimpressive, not like others I've seen.  After a few phone calls it's time for a walking tour to find a place to rest,... yes, in the airport.  I have to be at the convention center ready to work at 8:30 in the morning so rather than pay an unnecessary night of lodging at the hostel I decided to rest here and find the least expensive transportation from here to the convention center in the morning.  Besides, I've heard and been warned of the high crime rate in this city and would rather not be in an unfamiliar place at night.

I'll be working the ACC show (American College of Cardiology) and if I had forgotten I am often reminded here as I can't help but see posters and signs displayed throughout the airport welcoming exhibitors and attendees of  ACC.11.

After a couple of hours wandering around both upstairs and downstairs I decide to make camp in the upstairs departures lobby in front of the check-in counters of Continental and Delta Airlines.  I'm pleased to see six others doing the same.  A couple is lying on the floor covered in blankets next to their luggage.  Two guys are passing time on their laptops.  A few other people are relaxing in seats on the opposite side of the lobby.  There are no departures until the morning so I know they are staying overnight.

Teeth brushed, alarm set for 6:00 am, it's about 1:30 am when I curl up on the seats and lay my head on my backpack to get what rest may be had.  I will have much more to write to you tomorrow when I actually get to see the city.

Good night!

Day 1 - Getting there, and,... what the heck is an ultrasound model???

Whenever I tell someone I'm going to be working as an ultrasound model the inevitable question arises, "What is that?"

Basically, medical companies that sell ultrasound machines will hire models to work at conventions or other meetings and demonstrate the equipment on the models.  An ultrasound model normally spends the day lying down or sitting while the ultrasound tech scans either the heart, other organs, the joints, really any number of parts of the body for the purpose of showing the capabilities of the machine or for teaching purposes.  That's it.

So, that's what I'll be doing.

Here's what I'll be bringing to snack on during the trip there.

Nothing beats a bag of almonds, sunflower seeds and prunes along with a few cans of kipper snacks.  More on this later.

I'm also only bringing my backpack.  No check-in luggage.  I prefer to travel light and efficient.

That's my very useful military backpack with multiple compartments with a canteen attached to the side.

So, I'm off now.  I will write updates as often as possible.  Catching a flight from San Diego to San Francisco then to New Orleans.