I could have been warmer last night, but I've slept a lot worse. With practice, I could adapt. In the present tense, sleeping in the car felt like an experiment, and we got a passing grade. We packed up again as the sun began to rise.
Sneaking a dog into the Waffle House. She must have been thinking this one up in advance, because "it was my phone" was quick to Kristin's lips when a sharp woof came out of her big funny purse. Luckily, there were no further woofs or questions.
We got an Air BnB that you'd have to see to believe. Someone in the Bywater section - two miles from the French Quarter - is renting out a backyard tent for $30 per night. Thirty bucks for a tent seemed to be pushing it, but throw in a shower and a yard to keep a dog, and it was in the right neighborhood in both price and location. An orange extension cord wound through the yard and into the tent. Okay, fine, it's a deal. Oh, wait... a $9 cleaning fee? Fuck it. Just charge me and let's get this over with.
Me and Kristin had a great time. We wandered around the French Quarter, loafed around on Bourbon Street, and ended up sharing one hell of a dressed up hot dog. Let me tell you, there was a whole slice of pickle laid down under the hot dog, and yes I'd eat one again.