Quietly I left the bed, grabbed my overnight bag and sneaked off to the bathroom to get dressed. I need some coffee and I need it in the worst way. Hair tousled and curls unruly, I could have cared less. When I need my coffee, my appearance is something I totally ignore except for getting dressed. I don't want to be arrested on my trip to the lobby.
A bright red camisole top beneath a white silk blouse sprinkled with little black dots, over a pair of black knee length shorts and I'm out of the room and headed for the lobby.
It's 0730 hrs and the front desk is dealing with people checking out, the concierge is ordering taxis and I'm trying to find the coffee pot. I can see people out by the pool with their carafes of shiny stainless steel beside their white china cups and saucers. I know coffee is available somewhere. The double doors ahead swing open as a waitor emerges with a tray and I have found the fountain where the coffee is hiding.
Some people at the coffee bar try to make light conversation. I feel as though I look like the man on the park bench last night when he opened his eyes and looked skyward unfocused and unaware. Yep. That's me before my coffee. Unfocused and unaware.
Pouring two large Styrofoam cups, adding two creamers each, I sip one while heading back upstairs.
I'm now sitting on the balcony listening to the early morning noises of the Quarters. Buses with their diesel fumes have started their rounds. The street cleaner just roared beneath where I sit spraying a soapy white water and men in crisp white shirts and black slacks are stepping out of their work place to smoke a cigarette before their days becomes too busy to take a break.
Another busy day in New Orleans for these that cater to the tourist trade. I would love to sit here longer but I have just finished that cup of coffee and I'm on my way back to the lobby for more.
I'm ready for a long day at the race track where the festival is held. Camera is charged and ready.
I'm done ...for now.