Like walkin' down Dauphine Street

It's not been so long since we left Panama City, but in Bike and Build time it might as well be a month. A quick run-down of recent highlights include watching dolphins jump and hunt fish in the Gulf, savoring the best shrimp creole on either side, bayou, or delta of the MIssissippi, and visiting Beauvoir, the last home of Jefferson Davis, where the staff granted myself and new best friends Zhi, Caroline, and Chelsea not only free admission but a generous dollar donation. It might have felt odd to receive such warmth and support from an organization that parades the stars and bars, but I already believe that our commitment to the USA as a single community and the inspiration spread around by what we are doing cuts across even the most entrenched political divide!

Two recent experiences, though, stand out, and help to highlight just how wonderful this experience is. The first came as we left Pensacola for Mobile, Alabama (the city which offered up the title for this post, which was apparently a 20's, make that 1820's, phrase denoting a thing of exceptional quality). Myself and frequent riding partner Zhi, who races for NYU, were going along at a good clip when he suffered another one of what has proved a despicable streak of flats. With a sigh we pulled off to change the tube, itching to get back on the road and knock out as many miles as we could before the heat rose. Zhi set to work, but an abnormally loud rumble of a jet engine drew my eyes skyward. Suddenly a Navy jet adorned with the blue and yellow of the Blue Angels came screaming over the tree tops, just a few hundred yards over our heads. We could read all the markings clearly for a few seconds, before the pilot pulled into a steep climb and a seemingly effortless flip turn to join 3 of his comrades for some supremely excellent formation flying. Poor Zhi tried hard to quickly change his deflated tube, but my shouts of "Whoaa" and exhortations to look up as the jets looped, turned and barrel-rolled just over our heads, probably complicated matters for him. Other riders rolled by as we all exchanged amazed looks, and we were back on the road as the impromptu air show seemed to subside. This is one of the many wonders encountered when cycling across the country!

Another unique experience came in our ride into New Orleans. The day was impressively hot, with a heat index into the 110s, and we rode hard to get into the city to beat the heat and arrive in time for the USA v. England World Cup match. We made it, found an a/c restaurant in which to watch the game, and were treated to deeply discounted local fare. I ate more gumbo and shrimp po'boys than even I had thought possible, and after my comrades slept through the second half we rolled down Bourbon Street to our host. That experience, riding through the French quarter and drawing stares in our Bike and Build jerseys, is probably the closest I'll get to what American GIs felt when they liberated Paris.

I'll have a great deal more to say about our first few days in New Orleans soon. Sunday we explored the city, listened to street music, found two festivals, and generally enjoyed ourselves to the extreme. Today was our first build day, and we spent it in the lower 9th ward spackling drywall and speaking with folks who lost all they owned, and many of them close family members. Those two dimensions of my experience in this city has made for quite a bit to digest, but I feel already that this is the most unique and compellingly interesting city I've yet set foot in.

"I didn't know that a home could float, before Katrina"

Mac, a lifelong resident of the 9th ward who has returned and poured all of his energy and resources into a nascent community center for the neighborhood. "I sometimes say that Katrina was the best thing that happened to me. I ain't never been so happy, or so broke."