Mardi Gras Meat.

'Team Lunch' and a cart-full of bread.

New Orleans, LA - Crossing from Mississippi into Louisiana, the road that never seemed to end dissolved into a ghost of fog.

On a bus for 22 hours through seven states and a province, we have set up camp at Adullam Christian Fellowship – also known as City of Hope – in New Orleans, preparing to spend the afternoon in the French Quarter. Spirits are high, and not just because we can hear the faint strains of Sunday service wafting through the air.

After a group meal at the International House of Pancakes, we broke into 'Team Breakfast' and 'Team Lunch,' invading the local Wal-Mart to gather supplies for the week. Three heads of lettuce, 24 loaves of bread, six gallons of milk and nearly 10 pounds of sandwich meat: the trappings of a few meals for 40.

Greeted by a thick accent matched only by his smile, the man behind the meat counter talked us up, and started teasing us by saying "eh" and "aboot." And asked of we had driven down through California.

Then he gave us free meat to celebrate Mardi Gras. Long live southern hospitality.

Hammer Time.

The road ahead is long for the Mustangs.

Jackson Centre, OH - Like a cement arrow pointing to the bayou, 20 hours of road unfurl before and behind us. Now a third of the way in: New Orleans, here we come.

Building on months of preparation and anticipation, the excitement of 39 Alternative Spring Breakers has seemingly been bottled into the bus like a soft drink, shaken vigorously. Soon, the building will become more tangible as we begin a Habitat for Humanity project in the Big Easy.

Despite some apprehension at the border as we waited to see if one of our team members would be turned back because of a misplaced passport, we were left with a relatively uneventful crossing. Exhale. A stunned jubilation took over from there, fueling this strangely exciting road trip.

With Ontario and Michigan behind us, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi and Louisiana still loom lazily ahead. It turns out folding 6"3 into these seats comes as easily as sleeping in them. Which is to say, not.

Several hours in, the chatter persists. Cell biology texts lay strewn across upholstered seats, Shark Week has given way to the O.C. on the DVD player and a deck of cards shuffles between seats. Aces.

And the stale smell of french fries lingers still.

kentucky hills
The sun scorches behind
the scratched-out erasings
that carve jagged brushstrokes
folding over the curves
of these hills.

In darkness,
the lines shine brightly,
a second on,

a second off,
like a light switch
switched
hypnotically.

The beauty of not having to drive,
for once.