The Blue Bayou. The atmosphere of this particular restaurant is what you pay for. In one moment you may be braving the heat of high noon, the sun beats down upon you with what feels like a mallet made of magma. The next moment and you are traversing colonial Louisiana and it is night. The darkness is overwhelming, but the mural of a pallid blue glow on the western horizon appears to cloak the darkness in a gentle twilight. Old growth trees lean towards the sun, silhouetted against the false horizon as if weary from their old age. The ancient white architecture of an old French-style plantation looms over each table bringing with it the semblance of dining on an old street in the french quarter of New Orleans. Forty tables side by side each with a single solitary candle glowing morbidly upon the table. They give off a yellow luminscence with such stillness that they appear to each glow as a firefly resting on a white lily upon the stagnation of a moldy old swamp. Owls hoot and firefly's glow over the river. An old man sits rocking back and forth in front of his wood cabin at the waters edge. A pipe in his mouth and old Creole songs on his tongue. Slow barges carrying a dozen amused passengers slowly drift by, barely creating ripples in the water.
I sat and ate dinner here at this restaurant. Feeling like I stepped through the doors of time and fell upon an old world. Masticating upon gumbo and Cajun spiced Salmon I held Ashley's hand and enjoyed the atmosphere with her all the while conversing with young Lavi. This is the type of event that I experienced on my birthday. This is one hour in an entire day with some of my favorite people. Thus you can imagine what the rest must have been like.
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