Thanksgiving Cajun style
Flight time from JFK New York to New Orleans is roughly three hours and thirty minutes. Add on an extra two hours to make it through Thanksgiving lines, and Dagny has to spend a good five hours watching John Casey eye everyone with the utmost suspicion, while John deals with a hyperactive Dagny who can't sit still. Half way through her Latte, and twenty minutes before they were about to board, John puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a hard look.
"Settle down, or we're going home." With a sigh, Dagny sinks down into her chair and doesn't move for the rest of their time in the airport.
She figures that he can't turn the airplane around and make them go home, but then maybe he can. Dagny giggles to herself at the mental image of John Casey getting up and forcing the airplane around because the kids in the back won't shut up. Her head phones in, she opens her eyes and looks over at the stoic man who was currently reading the fold out on what to do in an emergency. She's not sure if he's Zen or thinking about the best way to kill the kid in the seat behind him. She isn't sure what he said to the kid once his mother left, but there wasn't a peep out of him the rest of the flight. John Casey had that effect on people.
Dagny wakes up right before the end of the fight, just early enough for her ears to pop and to watch the flat, watery planes of New Orleans come into view. They are going below sea level and she can feel the air change, it's thicker then it is in New York, an odd sort of density that is half moisture and half . . . je ne sais quoi. Something that she can't even name.
The plane sits down, and they get their luggage without incident. Dagny doesn't live in New Orleans proper, and so they rent a car and head out of town. Despite the years after Katrina there is still parts of New Orleans that look empty, shells of it's former self. Businesses boarded up, houses with windows missing or blue FEMA tarps for roofs. The further they get from the city, the more apparent the abandonment becomes. She doesn't say anything about the houses they pass, she's seen it all before and there is nothing to be said now to change the fact that what once was, no longer is.
Her house sits back from the road, up a dirt drive way, surrounded on either side by large oak trees, its branches heavy with Spanish moss. The yard is carefully trimmed, recently mowed, probably at Dagny's insistence. The house is up on brick legs, like most houses in New Orleans so the termites can't get to the wood of the house. It's a ranch style house with a screened in front porch, like all the other houses around it, as if they couldn't afford a second story so they just spread outward.
As soon as the car stops, Dagny bolts from the car despite John making an attempt to get her to stay. He's thinking safety and all she's thinking is that she is finally home. The door opens and Dagny's brother, Tom steps out, and has just enough time to catch his sister as she flings herself at him. There is a chatter of French as they greet each other like they haven't seen each other in years. Her father comes out next, and he gets the same treatment, a squeal and a huge hug from Dagny.
After the family reunion, John joins them on the porch, setting the bags down before accepting a hardy handshake from both men. The Taggarts are nothing if not hospitable, especially with strangers during the holidays. They are weary of anyone that lived in California, but anyone who served the United States honorably can be forgiven for the California thing. With a laugh, Ed Taggart opens the door for their guest and tells John to make himself at home. As far as they are concerned, he is family.
"Settle down, or we're going home." With a sigh, Dagny sinks down into her chair and doesn't move for the rest of their time in the airport.
She figures that he can't turn the airplane around and make them go home, but then maybe he can. Dagny giggles to herself at the mental image of John Casey getting up and forcing the airplane around because the kids in the back won't shut up. Her head phones in, she opens her eyes and looks over at the stoic man who was currently reading the fold out on what to do in an emergency. She's not sure if he's Zen or thinking about the best way to kill the kid in the seat behind him. She isn't sure what he said to the kid once his mother left, but there wasn't a peep out of him the rest of the flight. John Casey had that effect on people.
Dagny wakes up right before the end of the fight, just early enough for her ears to pop and to watch the flat, watery planes of New Orleans come into view. They are going below sea level and she can feel the air change, it's thicker then it is in New York, an odd sort of density that is half moisture and half . . . je ne sais quoi. Something that she can't even name.
The plane sits down, and they get their luggage without incident. Dagny doesn't live in New Orleans proper, and so they rent a car and head out of town. Despite the years after Katrina there is still parts of New Orleans that look empty, shells of it's former self. Businesses boarded up, houses with windows missing or blue FEMA tarps for roofs. The further they get from the city, the more apparent the abandonment becomes. She doesn't say anything about the houses they pass, she's seen it all before and there is nothing to be said now to change the fact that what once was, no longer is.
Her house sits back from the road, up a dirt drive way, surrounded on either side by large oak trees, its branches heavy with Spanish moss. The yard is carefully trimmed, recently mowed, probably at Dagny's insistence. The house is up on brick legs, like most houses in New Orleans so the termites can't get to the wood of the house. It's a ranch style house with a screened in front porch, like all the other houses around it, as if they couldn't afford a second story so they just spread outward.
As soon as the car stops, Dagny bolts from the car despite John making an attempt to get her to stay. He's thinking safety and all she's thinking is that she is finally home. The door opens and Dagny's brother, Tom steps out, and has just enough time to catch his sister as she flings herself at him. There is a chatter of French as they greet each other like they haven't seen each other in years. Her father comes out next, and he gets the same treatment, a squeal and a huge hug from Dagny.
After the family reunion, John joins them on the porch, setting the bags down before accepting a hardy handshake from both men. The Taggarts are nothing if not hospitable, especially with strangers during the holidays. They are weary of anyone that lived in California, but anyone who served the United States honorably can be forgiven for the California thing. With a laugh, Ed Taggart opens the door for their guest and tells John to make himself at home. As far as they are concerned, he is family.