Thursday morning we attended a lecture by Cari Roy, the attractive, blonde New Orleans psychic who gave readings during the big Mardi Gras celebration earlier in the week. She gave a very credible lecture about developing intuition, and distributed a nicely done handout of notes. Because many of her comments sounded so compatible with Unity, after her talk I asked her if she knew of it. She said, “Do you mean at Lee’s Summit, Missouri?”
I acknowledged it and we compared notes. She told me she had seriously considered attending seminary there, but rejected the idea only because it’s too cold for her. She said she’s more comfortable in the climate of New Orleans.
On Friday morning Captain Mercer altered Amsterdam’s course just a bit so we could pass close by Lord Howe Island to starboard and, at almost the same time, Ball Pyramid to port. They’re both out islands of Norfolk Island.
The crew busied themselves preparing and serving Mongolian lunch on the Lido Deck, a very popular event.
That evening was a variety show, and we suffered through another act by a bad comedian in order to see what followed – another presentation by Carl LeBlanc’s New Orleans Band in the main showroom. This time, instead of pure Dixieland they played more of a varied jazz performance, demonstrating their versatility and breadth of talent. The band turned out to be eight pieces instead of six. They made many references to New Orleans, where they live, and Carl (the one with the dreadlocks) introduced one song by referring to a friend of his who lives in the Lower Ninth Ward. “His name,” he said, “is Antoine. But most people call him ‘Fats’.” Then they launched into Blueberry Hill. Introducing another song, he said, “Here’s another one Fats taught me,” and started an up tempo version of My Blue Heaven. They finished their set, of course, with When the Saints Go Marchin’ In, and we felt like dancing all the way to our room.
I’m including one photo from the next day – more of a tease, actually. Those of you who live in or have visited Corpus Christi, Texas (where we used to live), may recognize the scene in the same way we did. (Hint: It’s not really Corpus, but it sure did remind us of it.) More about that next time.