Chicago was my city, and although I have always wanted to travel, the thought of leaving such a breath taking place to start a new life in the deep south wasn't a city girl's dream...
I worked in one of the most prestigious salons in Chicago. I came to work every morning, only after stopping at Starbucks for my skinny vanilla latte, in stilettos and a fitted dress. My hair styled and my make up flawless. I worked in an industry that was only skin deep, with some of the most talented people I have ever met. I loved my job, and I loved Chicago. There was nothing I didn't adore about the windy city. I mean, I didn't even mind the frigid winters that sometimes required me to shovel my car out just to leave my parking space.
About six months ago, my life endured numerous changes. I got engaged to my high school sweetheart, he enlisted in the Coast Guard, he left for boot camp, he came back, we got married and 5 days after that he left for his station in New Orleans. One month after all of that, I quit my job, packed up my entire life, left my very best friends and my family, who meant the world to me, and moved across the country to start my new life with him. Too bad life doesn't come with a seat belt.
Read that last paragraph out loud without taking a breath. That's what it feels like. There's so much happening, you have to remember to breathe. I love Jake. He's the most amazing man I have ever come to know. I would travel across the world to be with him. After all, you have your whole life to work, but only one life to be totally and completely in love with someone. It all sounds so whimsical, but there's a lot of reality to this fantasy that is being married and starting a new life.
A culture shock would be an understatement. New Orleans is something you cannot describe to someone who has never been. From boudain to Bourbon Street, it's a trip. My friends back home often wonder how it is down here in the south. I tell them to come visit.
I'll admit. I hated it when I first arrived late one night in July. I stepped outside from the airport to breathe in the thickest, most humid air I have ever been in. I was instantly miserable. "Is it always this hot down here," I asked my husband. He laughed and told me it was actually a lot cooler than it was earlier.
Damn. I wondered why I bothered packing a flat iron. I was being selfish and vein. I knew it. I was concerned about how hot it was and how crabby I'd be. Little did I know, 101 degrees was considered to be a "cool" day here in NOLA, and as the days went on, it would only get warmer. Fab.
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