Day 12, July 14: Bossier City to Biloxi

Enough gambling. Now for more gambling. But first there's New Orleans.

We got a late start leaving Bossier City. Breakfast was in the same casino coffee shop. It was fine, but nowhere near as good as the previous meal. Substandard service, substandard coffee.

We stopped in Alexandria, La., to find seltzer and replenish the cooler. It wasn't easy to find a supermarket amid the gritty industrial stuff. I spotted an "A" on a sign and said, "Albertson's!" We got to the sign and found that it actually meant Alexandria Mall or some such. But there was also an Albertson's. Freaky.

I took the wheel, and Jacqueline got some much-needed rest. Around Breaux Bridge, La., I missed out on a Calvin Trillin moment by not stopping at the Texaco station whose billboard advertised boudin and cracklins.
 
It seemed to take forever, but finally we got to New Orleans. First time for me; Jacqueline had been before but hadn't really gone to the French Quarter. The Vieux Carre was as impressive as advertised. Because we hadn't really been sure when we would arrive, and we were pretty sure we wanted a meal on the informal side, I managed to screw up the food planning in one of America's foremost food cities. The only real plan was to get to Central Grocery for muffalettas. We didn't really plan far ahead enough to figure out where the place is, though, or to realize just how early it closed. Or that it's pretty much a carryout operation. After a mini-death march, we settled on Pierre Maspero's, which looked historic and informal and had a muffaletta on the menu and may or may not be a tourist trap but was in the right place at a time when we weren't eager to walk any farther.
 
My muffaletta was ... fine. As was Jacqueline's ham and cheese. The most notable thing about Pierre Maspero's was the presence of club soda as a beverage choice actually listed on the menu. 
  
Biloxi is only a couple of hours from New Orleans. We took the scenic route along the Gulf shore through Gulfport. No complaints. We've never seen such a concentration of Waffle Houses.
 
We had some inkling that Beau Rivage was a reasonable facsimile of Bellagio (for the uninitiated, that would be the Las Vegas casino where we got married), but we were in no way prepared for just how striking the resemblance is. The eerie wonderfulness of it all got even more eerily wonderful when the lack of a non-smoking room with a king-size bed led to our paying an extra 75 bucks to upgrade to a suite. We also started thinking about how we might be able to rearrange our schedule to spend a second night in Biloxi.
 
It wasn't quite the suite we had at Bellagio in early April of 2000, but it was close enough to put big smiles on our faces. Two bathrooms, whirlpool tub in one and luxurious shower in the other. Many TVs. Huge living area and separate huge bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows. His and hers bathrobes.
 
We headed downstairs to gamble but decided as the elevator neared the pool/spa floor to check out the facilities. It wasn't quite 9:30, and it turned out the pool was open till 10. In a rare moment of spontaneity, we hit "up" instead of "down" and hurried back to the suite for our swimsuits. There's nothing like a quiet swim after dark to really get that "I'm on vacation" feeling.
 
Relaxed and showered, we finally made it to the casino. This was no Horseshoe Bossier City-style disappointment in comparison to the rest of the hotel. No, this was ... Bellagio. The same smell, the same floral canopies. Unlike Bellagio, though, there were $5-minimum blackjack tables in prime time. We settled in and played for about two hours, and it was one of the most orderly winning sessions we've ever had. And we both won, both of us to the tune of about $100.
 
We headed to the coffee shop for a little something. I was ready for bed, and I went upstairs. Jacqueline was ready for some video poker. I was awake when she returned, and when she didn't mention her winnings or losings I assumed she had lost.