Somewhere in Kentucky, en route to New Orleans

In spite of the fact that we had gotten a hotel that was relatively close, I was almost late for the bus and ended up getting to it just as it was scheduled to be pulling away.  

My roommate, Dean, ends up being someone I've met before.  We talked briefly last summer at Wasaga Beach and learned that we were both taking this bus trip.   The bus made a total of two more stops after I got on to pick more people up.  Dean didn't know me when he got on he bus, and he took a seat before getting to me.  I kept my fingers crossed and no one else took the seat next to me.  That's a big help.  Sometimes it's good to be the outsider.

We got through customs at Detroit a little after 3:00 PM.  It's now about 8:30 PM and I'm posting this at a McDonald's in Kentucky where we've stopped to gas the bus.  The worst part of the trip is yet to come but I'm doing fine.

My thought of the day: Proportionally, I'm just a bit younger than Andrew Jackson.  I was born in 1968.  He was born in 1767.  I remember the American Bicentennial in 1976, when I rang my little Liberty Bell at a parade celebrating the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.  He remembered a British officer striking him with a sword during the Revolution when, as a young boy, he refused to shine the man's shoes.  I remember the bicentennial of the drafting of the Constitution, when I was in college in 1987.  He was a young man of 20 when the government was founded.  Now, in the 200th year after his victory, I'm headed to New Orleans.  I'm 46.  He was 47.


When the anniversary hour of the battle comes tomorrow morning, we'll till be on the bus in Louisiana or Alabama, most likely.