Visiting Friends

This weekend I am getting some company. I don’t get company very often, they are coming from really far away. Well, one friend is from New Orleans, but my other friend is coming from France. France is very far away.

So now that I know they are coming, and am very excited, I have to plan a perfect itinerary of displaying North Louisiana culture and finding them a place to stay. The problem is my house is not very big, and it is also full of messy teenagers. They offered their rooms, but nobody has been able to actually navigate into their rooms in so many years that it has ceased to be an option.

But my mom has been very lonely and she has lots of not-messy rooms, so she wants them with her. One could sleep in my old room with her daughter and the other could sleep in the spare room. Now my friend will very much enjoy sleeping in my old room because it still has all my toys and has remained intact since my departure all those years ago. In fact, it is referred to as "The Shrine" since I left. People claim when they stay in it that wonderful things happen. Arthritis is cured, broken bones are healed, and all other sorts of things that should happen when one sleeps in a very special place.

Now that problem is solved, but knowing that someone is sleeping in my old room tends to bother me just a bit. Maybe she will play with all my old toys when I am not looking and maybe even break some. I used to have friends that did that. Or maybe she might change all my old Barbies clothes, and they will no longer be dressed with the superior fashion sense that I had when I was eight. But I am looking forward to seeing my friends, so I will have to leave my Barbies to their own devices.

The next problem is how to entertain people in North Louisiana when they are used to hanging around Paris. These friends will probably want a bit more culture than my usual pals who I take down to the rodeo and have a rip roaring evening of chili-cheese-nachos and watching cowboys get trampled by bulls. A bit too violent for people that enjoy the evening air of the Champs D'Elysee over a fine glass of burgundy. Maybe I’ll tone it down a bit and take them to the Alligator farm, and if we are lucky tourist might get eaten and we can make the evening news.

Or I considered a museum to look at some fine art. Then, again, they spend their days roaming the marble halls of the Louvre, and I don’t know if they would enjoy some paintings of horses when they spent the last weekend gazing at the Mona Lisa. But I really like paintings of horses. We could spend the afternoon at a local museum with horses and then maybe rent the DaVinci Code to watch back at home in the night. Or maybe I could take them by my other friend’s farm and let them pet some real live cows. Petting a real live Louisiana cow has to be more fun than spending so many afternoons gazing at a painting of a lady that no one really even knows.

And then I was thinking of someplace authentic to take them for dinner. Someplace that really represents my home. I envisioned a sunshine drenched lake, draped in moss covered trees while we all sat around and dined on cornmeal battered catfish. A trip to Lake Bistineau would be the perfect place. It would be as authentic and as beautiful as any European bistro, and the fish would be as delicate and delicious as any world famous chef’s.

But I still had a problem. Thinking of taking my friends to eat a delicious fish dinner, already had me thinking of why drive all the way to Lake Bistineau, when my very favorite fish restaurant was right here in town. And a view of Airline Drive wasn’t all that unpleasant. Maybe they were used to the wonders of France, but nothing would beat dinner at Captain Ds right here in Bossier City, right here in my wonderful Louisiana, right here in the good old USA. It was America they were after, and America they would get. And if they had a few extra minutes, it would be funnel cakes for dessert. They make great munching at the rodeo when the cowboys are getting trampled by bulls.