I dont know

I have two best friends named J. One is a guy and one is a girl. My best friend J who is a girl, has been my friend since we met in the third grade. J the girl lived a mile (exactly) away from me and since there weren't many other kids in our mostly-retirement-aged neighborhood, that dictated we be friends. What dictated that we remain friends for over thirty years, I don't quite know. She makes me laugh and she remembers more about my childhood than I do, that's part of it.

My best friend J, the guy, is a former boyfriend I dated many years ago. There is a 13 year age difference between us. It seemed prudent after awhile to morph the relationship to friendship. We did, and our, now- platonic love, has lasted for over a decade.

So J (the guy) and I were working together in New Orleans this past weekend on a charity event with some famous chef I know nothing about. Each day, no matter how early we were starting work, or how long we had worked the night before, we got up and walked into the French Quarter to sight-see and eat breakfast. Each day we tried to get coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde and wound up repelled by the touristy crowds. J was disappointed by this, but I was secretly relieved. I'm not supposed to be eating any gluten, but I was in New Orleans with my best friend so rules were going out the window and my stomach was suffering. A bunch of wheat and sugar first thing in the morning would not have done me well. Instead, we wandered down side streets and found several other less populated, but much nicer (to my mind) cafes. The first, The Old Coffee Pot had great food of the real protein variety. I had Eggs Creole and J had eggs and grits, bacon, and most of my side of fluffy, homemade biscuits. I don't know the name of the second restaurant. It is a mystery since there is no sign that I could see, or any name that stood out on the menu (no doubt i just overlooked in my hurry to get at the food). I've been twice and I'll be going back every time I'm in New Orleans. I may not know the name but I know how to find it, the location is etched in my mind, along with the taste of their delicious crab cakes and Eggs Benedict.

The last day of work we went in at 12 noon and worked until 8 AM the next day. Despite our aching, bruised bodies, we dutifully went into the French Quarter for breakfast before catching cabs to the airport to get our planes home.

I have this to say about working around the clock and then trying to catch a plane...

There comes a point, when you have been awake so long you no longer give a crap about anything but sleep. Every sentence that comes out of your mouth will start one of two ways, either "I dont know, " or "I don't f***ing care."

Like this;

You: (walking dazedly out into the blazing sunlight, struggling to get your sunglasses on) trying to find a bellhop. You have been awake for over 30 hours straight. You look like something a cat has mangled all day, finally attempted to swallow, failed, and left for dead. You probably smell worse than that.

Hotel Guest: "Excuse me, do you know whether the historic tour picks up here?"

You: "I don't know, sorry."

Hotel Guest: "I don't have any cash, the hotel said they take credit cards for the tour but I think I ought to go find the ATM just in case. Do you know where the ATM is?'

You: "I don't know. I'm not from here."

Hotel Guest: "Really?! Me either! I'm from Indiana, my mother and I came down for the historic tou.."

Hotel guest trails off as they notice your eyes have literally rolled back in your head and you are mumbling.

You (under your breath but still audibly) " I don't f***ing care."

Hotel guest sidles away. You find a bellhop who calls a cab.

You get in the cab and nearly fall asleep in the back.

Cab Driver: "Which airline please?"

You: (realizing this is important information your tired brain simply can not access at the moment) "I... don't know, let me check."

You scramble and find the airline in the nick of time.

You arrive at the counter to check in and stand in the wrong line.

Customer Behind You: " Ma'am (rrrgggghhh "ma'am" me and you're already on my bad side), I notice you have your boarding pass, this is the line for people who don't have boarding passes, your line, the line to just check luggage, is over there (indicates MUCH longer line to the left)."

And here your brain suddenly shakes off the sleepy, gauzy haze it has been drifting about in and jackknifes straight into high rage. This shift is sudden, total and uncontrollable, the censor in your head, the patient inner-voice that cautions calm courtesy to even the most annoying of strangers, is asleep at the wheel having left the primal, eternally bloodthirsty-reptile brain in total control. Woe be to the unwary.

You: (very loudly) "I don't f***ing care! That line is five times as long as this one. I don't see why you f***ing care either, since the fact that I don't have to get a boarding pass means I will be quicker than everyone else in this line. I don't see why the fact that I had my s*** together and managed to check in from my phone-because I, unlike the rest of you people in this line, know that the internet is for more than just porn-means I should be punished waiting in a longer line. So piss off!"

Your Friend (standing in line in front of you dying of embarrassment): "Where did that come from?!"

You (awestruck by your own virulence): "I don't know..."