The day started before the sun had fully made its presence felt on the earth’s stage. By the time we arrived at the airport, the curtains had been pulled back and sunlight filled the terminal. A girl hurried toward the exit, holding up her phone to record herself. She flashed two fingers in a peace sign and smiled at her screen. I imagined she was excited to have just arrived in New York. I smiled quietly to myself, tickled by her excitement while awaiting a little of my own.

When I was a child, getting to the airport was always a race. We made every flight, but Lord, did we have to run. These days, I like getting there early enough to notice the girl with the peace sign.

On the way to our gate, I could feel sleep looking for a place to nestle in. The excitement of my birthday trip kept me awake a little longer, although once you put me on anything that moves, all bets are off. I once fell so deeply asleep on the Bronx-bound No. 1 train that I missed my stop. Luckily for me, the last stop was the very next one.

Once on the plane, I gave my seat a good wipe-down and pulled out all the things. My laptop. My book. The notes I meant to follow up on.

What a production. Ten minutes later, I was asleep.

We arrived early in New Orleans, and my plan was simple enough. Check in, grab a bite, lie down. I managed the first two. About an hour later, I had my bag back on my shoulder and was on my way to see Instagram sensation Yvonne LaFleur.

I’d followed Yvonne Lafleur  on Instagram for some time and had it in my head that her shop was vintage. I’d been looking for a special piece, and the place had such an Old Hollywood feel that, even standing inside, I could see where I’d gotten the idea. The clothes were current ready-to-wear. Yvonne, on the other hand, was exactly as she’d seemed on my little phone screen. Feminine and so soft-spoken that if you weren’t standing right in front of her, you might miss her breathy words.

Being there took me back to my own boutique. I miss that moment when you’re styling a woman and find the one thing that looks the way it does because she’s the one wearing it. I always felt I got as much out of that moment as my client did. Standing there with Yvonne, I had a feeling she understood that.

The funny thing is, I did find a piece on that trip. A little farther along from Café du Monde, in the French Market, there it was. The cutest green-and-black top. Of course, the green is what called my name.

Now, about Café du Monde. We’d gone to see St. Louis Cathedral overlooking Jackson Square, where the statue of Andrew Jackson stands. Nearby was the café people had told me about, so naturally I had to try a beignet. The first bite reminded me of the zeppole I grew up eating at New York street fairs. I was once lucky enough to have an Italian friend make one right in front of me. Do you have any idea how blessed you must be to partake in a fresh zeppola right out of the grease? Anyway, I digress…

There was history here I wanted somebody to walk me through. One word from our tour stayed with me. Bulbancha. Long before the French founded New Orleans in 1718, Indigenous peoples knew this area by that name. I came looking forward to hearing the music of a city whose earlier name I was only just learning.

And did we hear music. On Bourbon Street, it seemed to come from every bandstand. On Frenchmen Street, I was at The Spotted Cat and could already see another band across the street setting up for its next set. Imagine trying to decide when to call it a night with that going on right in front of you.

Some things I remember by the first bite. At Cochon, it was fried alligator, a first for me. At Li’l Dizzy’s Café, it was the beans and rice. Of all the things we ate, that home-style Southern dish was one of my favorites. Blue Bayou had delicious fried shrimp and jambalaya. And let me give that frozen drink its proper place. It was on point.

The highlight of our last night in New Orleans was seeing Rakim at Tipitina’s. I’d heard about Rakim for years. To find out he’d be performing right there, on the last night of my birthday trip? Now you know I was going.

Thinking back, I recognize a little of myself in that girl at the airport. She had her two fingers up, happy to be going wherever she was going. Maybe that was the truth of my smile… Even as I type this last sentence, I feel that smile creeping up the sides of my face. Who knew smiles could travel…

Tell me, have you ever found yourself at a crossroads between taking a nap and seizing the moment on vacation? Which one won?

With love
Cealle