New Orleans Folds Space

Today started out ordinary and veered straight into uncanny. I sat down at Honey’s, a neighborhood café I picked more or less at random, and barely had time to sip my coffee when Hayden—yes, that Hayden—walked in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

We met over a month ago, hundreds of miles upriver, where she radiated absolute Fuck Yeah energy and was the instigator of a drunken, glorious Fourth of July boat-salvage operation in the Bayou. And now, here she is, casually saying “hi Wes” like this city isn’t bending reality to amuse itself.

New Orleans has been a lot like that. I only know maybe a dozen people in Louisiana, but somehow I keep running into half of them here. Like the city’s folding time and space just for the hell of it.