Somewhere between the house hunting, the packing, the unpacking and the demands of a middle schooler whose capacity for demand is, as they say in these parts, a Category 5, the joie had gone out of the whole moving experience for my sister-in-law, a licensed private investigator who specializes in making the rest of us seem really dull.
If there is
rum fun to be found in a 50-mile radius, My Sister-in-law, P.I., is going to find it. This is a lesson many of us in the family have learned the hard way, in venues ranging from biker pool halls to transvestite karaoke clubs.
So it is no surprise really, to learn that within minutes of unpacking the
first last of the boxes, she makes the following discovery in her new neighborhood on the Louisiana coast: drive-through daiquiri shops.
"They're everywhere," she tells me. They are apparently not kidding about the whole bon temps rouler thing in these parts.
From $4 for a 12 ounce cup, up to $22 a gallon, the adult residents of Greater New Orleans can drive away with a margarita or a daiquiri in flavors ranging from "alligator" to "quaalude." Happy hour is from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m.
In my neighborhood, the hours between 11 a.m. and 7 p.m. are devoted to lawn maintenance. Transvestite karaoke, as I learned during my sister-in-law's visit last summer, starts a little later.