Orlando Airport

I am in Connecticut. It is 40 degrees Fahrenheit colder than it is in New Orleans. There is some snow on the ground. It is not much, just enough to remind me that I am far away from New Orleans’ gravitational field. Such was not the case in the Orlando Airport.

I was sitting by my gate yesterday when I heard a familiar voice overhead. It was the speakers in the ceilings throughout the waiting area synched with the images on the televisions. Who’s voice was that? I looked at the television.

Well, well, well. What to my wondering eyes should appear but Isaac Toups eating crawfish at Clesi’s Seafood.