Gone Traveling--Last Day

Friday morning. Up early despite the late night, and out for one last run. Sadly, I have to return home and miss Halloween night on Bourbon Street, much to my regret. By I do have a job, and it requires my presence on Saturday. Sigh.

So I just run up and down the French Quarter streets for a while. I start out running up Bienville to Burgundy, down to Esplinade, back on Dauphine to Canal street, then down to Bourbon and back to Esplinade again, each 13-block stretch being about a mile. I came back down Royal, and was planning another trip up Chartres and maybe out to the river, when suddenly I saw a woman walking down the sidewalk with an old black lab dog, both of whom looked strikingly familiar.

I did know her. I knew her quite well. We'd briefly been an item back when that tired old dog of hers was an energetic new puppy. Of course I had two feet back then and a dog of my own--Oliver--who is also gone many years. (He was Lagniappe's half-brother and predecessor.) I called her name and she stopped. And she smiled and gave me a hug. Ten years ago we had something. I hadn't seen her in at least six or seven. Back then she had a face and a body that could stop traffic, but the years certainly haven't been kind. She was a 24-7 party girl back then and it had clearly taken it's toll.

"You look great!" she exclaimed.

I couldn't lie and say the same in return, so I asked her how she'd been.

Over the next half hour and a cup of coffee at a nearby cafe, we caught up on each other's lives. Of course she noticed the new leg, which I explained away as "a bad day on a motorcycle" without really elaborating. She never knew that I'd gone into law enforcement and she didn't need to know. Fortunately she didn't ask too many follow-up questions and the conversation shifted back to her life and adventures and other people that we knew in common. I couldn't get over the fact that she looked like she'd aged twenty years. I wondered if I looked like that to people that I used to know. I hope not. She still drinks, but I get the impression that the days when her drinks all came free are pretty much over. Ten years ago the spotlight was on her as a singer and bartender in some of Bourbon Street's better blues bars while she worked on a book that she swore would sell. Now she's waiting tables in a quiet little place uptown and still working on that same book that I doubt she'll ever finish.
Back in the day, I was still in school and she was the big success, with the posh apartment on Dumaine street. There was the possibility of something long-term, maybe even permanent, but I couldn't stay in New Orleans and she wouldn't leave. We parted friends and saw each other whenever I returned to the city. But as my station in life rose, her good life slowly slipped away. She'd given up the nice Dumaine place for a tacky room down on Camp Street the last time I'd seen her, and she'd sworn then that that dump was "only temporary". Well I get the idea that as bad as that room was, it was better than the one that she has now. What the hell happened?

We had to part before I could figure that out. She had an appointment and I had a plane to catch. I never did finish my run. By that time I didn't feel like it any more. She insisted that I take her number and e-mail and stay in touch. And I probably will. But I realized as we parted that I'd still had feelings for the girl that I'd known from years ago, and that girl's long gone now. She's been gone a long time, and I never quite realized it until this morning. Sigh. I feel old now.

A few hours later, I flew back to BWI, and it's back to life as usual. I've missed Lagniappe--I haven't missed hearing about the election--and I'm going to be focusing on developing some new job leads that I got while I was down there. It was a good trip and I accomplished everything that I meant to and more. But now I'm back and it's business as usual again.