Travels in a Tin Can

settled down. Why near the back you may wonder, where your viewing
pleasure may be restricted? Well, better that than being called on to
'volunteer' in the show or being singled out as the butt of jokes.
20 minutes later we stood up and left. Either the theme of the show
was 'our equipment is broken' or the show had not started because their
equipment really was broken. We were not overly impressed, especially as
the entertainers heckled those spectators who revealed a lack of loyalty by
refusing to sit on cold steps for hours. However the 20-minute break had
given us a rest, built up our appetites and been quite entertaining in its own
rights - 'Michael Jackson' had popped by and moon walked a little.
We settled on Johnny's Po-Boys for lunch – as recommended by our
ever-present Lonely Planet guidebook (ever present in our rucksacks, in spite
of its resemblance to a house-brick in both size and weight). A Po-Boy
(pronounced poor boy) is a filled baguette. Neither of us ever found out the
background of the name, but were in agreement that they were very tasty. I
had hot, very fresh (practically wriggling) calamari and Emma had grilled
chicken. The crowded restaurant suggested we were not alone in our opinion
of the food - it was the kind of place where diners have to coordinate their
eating technique so one moves forward to take a bite of their sandwich while
the person next to them leans back. The origins of the name 'po-boy' may
simply be that someone came up with the following joke, immortalized on the
toilet doors in the restaurant: 'Po-girls' and 'Po-boys'. And it just stuck.
After our large lunch we waddled our way down to the river, our first
daylight glimpse of the mighty Mississippi, in order to book a jazz brunch
cruise (not for the same day you understand...even our appetites have limits -