FOUR...Love at first dunk...

And so, this guy Pete turned out to be pretty darn cute after all! That first date in Fat City wasn't much fun, but it did seem like it was worth a follow-up, apparently to both of us. Since we both worked in the NOLA business district, we agreed to meet for an early showing of Jaws at the Joy Theater on Canal Street (of course, that was back in the days when you weren't taking your life in your hands by walking unarmed on Canal Street). Again, no real spark, but enough interest to agree to go out again. So on about Wednesday of the next week, Pete called me at work.

"Bunky, this is Pete LeCompte."

"Hey Pete! Glad you called."

"Listen, a few friends are going canoeing this weekend on the Big Biloxi. Can you come along?"

"Oh, Pete, I'd really love to go, but I have to tell you, my experience at canoeing is all bad. The last time I was in one was in 6th grade at church camp. They made us turn the boat over on purpose, and I broke my front tooth. Had to go home from camp to get it fixed. So, really, you probably don't want me as your co-captain."

"Oh come on and go. I'm not experienced either, but my friends are. It'll be a slow, easy trip. And no reason to think we might capsize."

Well, he persisted and I did go. It rained for 2 days before we left. The river was ridiculously swollen, we turned over in a rapid, and I ended up on a limb in the middle of the river, clad only in my bikini bottom and a babushka (I never did figure out what happened to my top when we went over). I watched as Pete and his friends floated away, around a bend and out of sight. So picture me sitting topless in that tree, singing my heart out to keep calm and away from total panic.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray..." And on and on and on.

I was imagining that they would have to float on down to the take-out point, call the authorities (no cell phones in 1975), and send a chopper to my rescue. How dramatic!

But no, about 2 hours later Pete's childhood friend, Dave, not only made his way upriver with a life vest (what on earth was I doing on a swollen river without one anyway?), but he brought me a cigarette in a Ziplock and a Dixie beer. Ah, New Orleans friendships...easy to make and you can always count on codependence when you need it most! He threw me the vest along with the beer and the smoke, and eventually convinced me to jump in and float through the rough water to where the rest of the group had made it to shore

The real story here is that when I was finally reunited with Pete and his gang, I refused to get back in the boat until the river eased up, so we pitched camp, got really drunk on Kamikaze's around the campfire, and that night, in a Coleman 2-manner, Pete and I REALLY fell in love. Lots of pent up anxiety in need of an outlet, and 35 years later here we are.

With lots of pent up anxiety in need of an outlet.