Quicky Real-Time Update, Part Two:

I woke up early the next day (Wednesday, August 20th) and found out that there was not going to be another train to Austin on Thursday (save for a train that was $175 more expensive than my ticket and that took the ridiculous route of New Orleans to Chicago to Austin).

Vdn suggested that I check out Greyhound, which hadn't even popped into my head. I did so and it turned out that tickets to Austin were comparable to the Amtrak ticket that I had purchased.

I canceled my Amtrak ticket and held off on getting a Greyhound ticket. I decided to shoot out a quick, last-minute shout on Craigslist.

Last August, I spent the month in Austin. Being so close to New Orleans, though, I figured that it would be sweet to see Wll and Vdn, friends from Phoenix, and to visit a city that I'd never visited before.

I had used Craigslist to coordinate a roundtrip roadtrip (with two different people both ways) between Austin and New Orleans.

My ride to New Orleans was a thirtysomething, slackerish businessman. He had done some post-grad work at a school in Florida, but did his undergrad studies in Atlanta. He (then-)currently lived in Austin doing tech stuff and had been to NOLA a billion times over.

He shared some of his crazy times in the French Quarter with me over our more than six hours in a car together. It wasn't all talking and hanging out; things were well placed with trading off driving duties, napping, and listening to music and other CDs.

The guy (whose name I can't remember) actually gave me a spoken word CD - it was of a lecture by Allen Ginsburg, discussing the nature of art, life, and their intersection. He said that he wanted me to have it after we had talked about improvisation and theatre.

So, that was neat.

We eventually found Wll and Vdn's place in Bywater. Or we found the address they had given, at least. No one was around.

I knocked on the door a few times and there was no answer at all.

I did find the door open, though. I figured that maybe they had stepped out and left the door open for me. That seems like a southern hospitality thing for folks to do.

My new friend, wanting to make sure that I was at the right place, kind of popped into their shotgun-style house (each room leads into the next, all in a row) and made his way toward the farthest room, poking his head around.

He popped his head into the bathroom and I heard a distressed "Excuse me!" emit from it, followed by a slammed door.

A few moments later, Wll emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

The door had mistakenly been left open and he was about to hop into the shower.

When my roadtrip companion boldly popped in, Wll thought he was being robbed.

It all got worked out, and my friend went on his way toward Florida.