Early July, with Dennis building in the Gulf, I drove west from Pensacola en route to the Big Easy. Still beautiful, Mobile rose across the bay, far grander than I remembered. Mississippi seemed like a new world, revived by the wealth of gaming and entertainment.
Then came New Orleans. We ate in the French Quarter. We heard jazz while walking down Bourbon Street. It had been 18 years, but the place danced far more magically than memories could paint. We would be back.