Somebody told me yesterday that the difference between Vegas and the French Quarter is that things don’t stay in New Orleans. Sadly, some things did – namely my phone and a couple of already cancelled credit cards.
While I was on my trip this week, I made note that I was going to be in New Orleans on Friday night. Dick Turner, an old judging friend of mine, dropped me a line saying he and his wife were going to be there as well to judge a show on Saturday. Few texts and a short walk to the French Quarter, and we met up. Dinner at Dennis Seafood, music at a local bar, and next thing you know I am hanging with some great judges — Greg Mills, Lance Lovejoy, and Katie Buelow … yes, THE Katie Buelow. It was fantastic to see them and catch up, making me wish I was on the Marching Band circuit this year.
After spoting my boss just before saying goodbye to the old gang, I turned to go find him again. That led to a series of bad decisions. One was making friends with some folk and have a few shots too. But knowing I fumbled in my pockets a couple times, some of the contents weren’t there in the morning. Namely my phone and a couple cards. I did get pickpocketed, thats for sure, otherwise they missed the other credit cards just sitting in my pocket this morning … and the cash in my wallet. No, I likely did something far more stupid – dropped it. I cancelled the cards, deactivated the phone, and was relieved to find nothing got posted or tampered with last night.
OF course I had time to do all this before I left the hotel – because I had a little extra time there. I was woken this morning by the cleaning crew at 9:45a. Which is bad because my flight was set to depart at 10:10. I slept through an alarm and two wake up calls (yeah, I predicted this before I went out last night). My first call was to the airline, and somehow they got me on a good three flights through DFW, Portland, then to the AK. While I should get back to Anchorage tonight still (more like, 2am tomorrow – and I am posting this from the plane btw), I am in rough shape and been angry at myself for the whole of the day.
The one thing that floats in my head is that there is some really good angel out there. I remember a complete stranger getting me a cab and riding with me to get me to my hotel room safely. I was pretty bad off by then, and I was stupidly vulernable. But someone watched out for me, and it made me make some prayers of thanks.