i hate new orleans.

this was supposed to be my vacation without temptations; my two day foray into family space where i never choose to linger; my brief reluctant return to a city i've always found too polarized, too dirty to interest me. so why do i eye the help wanted signs in the windows, why do i smile picturing myself in each house for rent? maybe this time there's a wealth of magical characters drifting into each encounter, and maybe this time, after chicago, everyone is so friendly. maybe this time i've found the right coffee shop full of dirty carnies, and maybe i'm walking so i don't look like a tourist. and maybe with my bike-biased eyes these flat streets are a-calling, so beautiful, so possible, so tempting. dammit, for once this was supposed to be a trip i could return from without regrets and what-ifs. i hate new orleans. no, really.