"Do you like my cowboy hat?"
The woman at Louis Armstrong Airport was heading back to Oregon, but right now she was beaming, holding out her camera to me. "I was just inside, admiring it on some guy, and he insisted I take it."
I snapped her photo, and she told me about her trip, the fun she'd had, the people she'd met, clearly intoxicated on the city, the experience, and perhaps a midday brew or two. "New Orleans people," she concluded, "are all so nice. They are the nicest."
She was on my flight, along with a member of the Portland Trail Blazers and an Oregon family who had come up for the LSU/Notre Dame game. As we were getting ready to deplane, they were talking: "The only thing that could have been better," one of them said, "was if the Irish had won."
"Well, look at the good side," somebody else said. "At least we didn't get shot at or murdered."
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