Dec. 4, 2012 – New Orleans to Lafayette, La.

I figured the torrential rain would earn me some sympathy.

Soaking wet outside Houma, La., my heart leapt as the black pickup truck slowed down – but took a free-fall as the diver blared his horn, held up both middle fingers, and sped past.

No big deal. I’d long gotten over the angry glares, rude gestures, and swear words thrown my way. Otherwise, I would have quit this trip long ago.

I had good reason to be down today – I had just left the Big Easy, possibly the coolest city I’ve ever visited. The place just oozes energy, culture, history, and music. I’ll be back for sure.

Marc saved me about three hours this morning by driving me across the Mississippi River and outside the city limits. After having just spent five days chilling, going out, hanging canoeing, and offering me non-stop travel advice, he still insisted this last favour was no big deal.

I bid my awesome host adieu, and headed to the Highway 90 shoulder.

Leffery (not Jeffery) picked me up after 30 minutes, and I spent most of the ride trying to understand what the hell he was saying. His accent was seriously that think. We only made one stop – at a gas station to grab another road brew.

He made for a great tour guide, pointing out landmarks along the road about every five minutes. I thoroughly enjoyed the break from the soulless interstate.

As Leffery dropped me in Houma, telling me he would have driven me 15 more miles to Morgantown if he didn’t need to save the potential gas expense for beer money.

I endured rain and insults for about an hour before deciding to hike down the highway to the next exit. But it was only minutes before a car pulled over ahead of me.

Tiwana and Anita, mother and daughter, both hopped out of the car to pop open the trunk. After having passed me minutes earlier, they had debated picking me up before turning back to do so.

“Before you get in this car, you have to promise you’re not a serial killer,” Anita told me about four times.

I assured her I wasn’t.

We made a quick pit stop at Taco Bell, where they insisted on buying me lunch, before heading clear on through to Lafayette. What an enjoyable ride.

My work wasn’t done – I still had to find my hostel at the Blue Moon Saloon. Luckily, Rachelle stopped me as I marched past the city bus stop, telling me downtown was eight miles away. I quickly joined her on the bench.

I reached my destination as darkness fell, eager to explore the heart of Cajun country.