Jess once told me she could see her young self in me. She often chided me, saying I was wasting myself doing public relations work. She said she knew a hard-nosed journalist when she saw one. She always helped me when she could, and now she was doing me a huge favor.

I was so excited, anticipating the likely spectacular photo optics of Bayou cleaning instead of polluting. Some other company polluted the river and Bayou Oil cleaned it up. They are practically heroes. For the second time today, I almost peed my pants with excitement. Before I could even call Sarah to fill her in, the photos hit my inbox. They were great. Bayou’s men all over the spill, wearing their brightly colored Bayou Oil coveralls. Containing barriers, vacuums, divers, a huge spotlight, and God knows what else. They marshaled it all like a military operation, working, cleaning and erasing the spill. I had what I needed. It was up to me now.

I quickly wrote a press release describing Bayou Oil’s tireless efforts cleaning up the oil spill that they did not cause. I credited their post-Katrina cleanup experience for developing their expertise in disaster response. “They don’t waste time waiting for the responsible party to step forward; they go to work tirelessly defending the river and city we all love.” My spiel went on and on with photo reminders of Dan Broussard’s many charitable contribution and efforts for the city, complete with photos past and present. Of course, Jess only sent me photos the paper wasn’t going to use and which I was free to share with other media outlets.

I brought Sarah up to speed and got the green light to charge ahead. I called all the local television stations and gave them a heads up before sending the press release, with accompanying photos. Then I reached out to the blogosphere and magazine worlds with the same info. I Facebooked, Tweeted, Instagrammed, and just about every other damn thing a person could do to get the word out. Within an hour, my spin on the spill was everywhere.

By the time I wrapped things up, it was 6:00 pm, time for girls’ night out. Look out Big Easy, here I come.

Chapter Two:

A Night in My Life

Now it was time to leave the dark side of the City, the work side, behind. It’s ladies’ night in the Quarter. Whoohoo!!! Bourbon time. Laissez les bon temps roulez.

I was meeting Charlotte first for drinks at the Pat O’Brien’s in the Quarter. We are both huge fans of The Walking Dead. I haven’t seen her for two months. That’s eight episodes.