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In other news, I think nearly a decade-and-a-half of living in New Orleans has finally begun to affect me–most notably in the way I find myself, a Southern Baptist, spontaneously reciting the Hail, Mary over and over and over when walking to the store or the gym or the cinema or, well, anywhere. At first, I thought it might be the verbal equivalent of a nervous tic, or perhaps a subconscious effort on the part of my psyche to give me a veneer of eccentricity (veneer? ha!) in order to prevent the tourist hordes from pestering me with questions like “Which way is Bourbon Street?”, “Is there a parade today?”, and the ever-popular “How do I get to Pat O’Brien’s?” But I find myself doing it in calmer moments, too–even in my own neighborhood, where relatively few out-of-towners roam the banquettes. Does it stem from a desire to fit in with the decidedly papist populace? Or is there something in the water?