2015 Road Trip Photos #35: Broiling Beach Memoirs

Anne of Arabia!

My wife, Anne of Arabia.

One of the great things about vacation photos is you can refer to them whenever you’re in the midst of oppressive dreariness and remember a time when everything was better . I’m writing this in January at the end of a weekend whose temperatures plummeted by half within a 36-hour span and saw snow and ice cover our roads dangerously enough to warrant at least sixty-six police runs to handle traffic accidents this morning. Worse still, it wasn’t enough to blanket all the greenery and make everything look like a Christmas postcard. Slick and ugly snowfall is the worst.

Thanks to the magic of blogging, tonight we’re traveling back to that bygone era of July 2015, on a quiet Sunday morning when my wife and I ran amok on a brightly burning beach that was the dehydrating yet delightful opposite of the chilly here-and-now.

Right this was for a brief respite from ice and snow!

2015 Road Trip Photos #34: Stately Davis Manor

CSA Rebel Flags!

Day Five took us beyond New Orleans and into the southeastern tip of Mississippi, where we found a few different must-sees on our road-trip checklist. We’d hoped to see something distinctly in Mississippi after our disappointing nonstop Day Two drive; genuine Gulf of Mexico water; a true Southern beach; and an authentic Southern mansion or plantation, whichever was available.

We found all of that and more in the coastal city of Biloxi. Our first stop along the way was at the mansion called Beauvoir, whose property from 1877 to 1889 was the home of Jefferson Davis, President of the erstwhile Confederate States of America.

Yes, there’s a gift shop.

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2015 Road Trip Photos #14: The Road to New Orleans

Bourbon Street!

One of the G-rated stretches of notorious Bourbon Street on a Sunday evening. Even Party Central needs its downtime.

There she was at long last — New Orleans!

We reached our primary objective at the end of Day Two, thankfully before sundown. All the post-Katrina tourism resources we consulted in our vacation research (books, travel sites, AAA brochures, message boards with supporting posts from wary New Orleans residents) seemed unanimous on one important message: anyone caught outside in New Orleans at night will be swiftly, repeatedly murdered. Perhaps that’s not the reality, but we weren’t prepared to call Fodor’s bluff during our first hours in town. No matter how long we spent in Alabama or at stops along the way, we wanted to be in New Orleans and checked in at our hotel while the sun was still on our side.

We met our objective, and all it took was a long, nearly featureless drive through an unrelated state, braving the cramped hallways that pass for roads in the French Quarter, and cutting a major stop from our itinerary.

Right this way to, at long last, New Orleans! Eventually!

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