Personal Narrative: A Trip To New Orleans
It never fails around this time of morning. This happens every single time we come to New Orleans. Either a float tried to squeeze into traffic, or someone wasn’t paying attention. Either way I felt like I would miss out on the main thing on my mind and that was barbequed ribs. My alarm went off, and I slowly woke up with crust filled eyes. Turning on the light while my vision tried to adjust through half dead eyes, I looked for the clothes I laid out the night before. It’s normally five in the morning that we get up to try and beat traffic, and this was the exact routine for every New Orleans travel trip. The primary thing that was on my mind was the event that would take place later that day. Mardi Gras. My family is huge, so when we go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, we expected to see plenty of people. If there were plenty of people then food would have to be an obligation. My family loves to cook and the menu never disappoints. Yet my mind frame focused on one major food, barbequed ribs. That’s all I had in mind half of that hour and thirty minute drive.
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People call me old because I like to drink coffee, and for some reason I decided to part take in about three cups before we left home. If you don’t know by now, coffee has a side effect of building up liquid in your body to pee. I was wide awake, but praying we would at least pit stop at a rest area. I saw the nearest sign for the rest stop on Louisiana’s border, and clearly told my grandmothers husband Mr. Lee to stop when we come up to it. He replied “I got you sir.” We drove smooth past it, not even an attempt with the turn signal. I felt played while he howled with laughter. I wanted to smack him smooth across the back of that shiny bald ass head of his. I was in mid thought when I heard the sirens, and a police car zipped
People call me old because I like to drink coffee, and for some reason I decided to part take in about three cups before we left home. If you don’t know by now, coffee has a side effect of building up liquid in your body to pee. I was wide awake, but praying we would at least pit stop at a rest area. I saw the nearest sign for the rest stop on Louisiana’s border, and clearly told my grandmothers husband Mr. Lee to stop when we come up to it. He replied “I got you sir.” We drove smooth past it, not even an attempt with the turn signal. I felt played while he howled with laughter. I wanted to smack him smooth across the back of that shiny bald ass head of his. I was in mid thought when I heard the sirens, and a police car zipped