The Ignominy Of It All

The Caribbean Mercy made what may be its final sail yesterday, if you want to call it that. In maritime terms it's called a dead ship tow - no control on board, without engine or helm. Two river tugs pushed and dragged us upstream like a barge, maneuvering us past downtown Mobile, under the bridge, and several more miles on up to our new home in Chickasaw.

Chickasaw, Alabama, that was.

All right, enough of that. It seems quite nice here - much greener, much quieter than the shipyard, where they were sandblasting drydocked barges at all hours. There's a warehouse of sorts here, but last year's four hurricanes left it a bit on the interpretive side, as functional architecture goes. Then there's a weedy concrete dock, with kind of a dirt path leading out to the mile-long backroad to the Whataburger (so i hear) and civilization, as it were. We're in a small inlet off the tree-lined river, just wide and deep enough for us and the alligators, of which two have been sighted so far. [click here.] If we make it out to the gate tonight, we're going to Panera to post these updates, so if you're reading this, we haven't been eaten yet. To be continued.