Right now, if the train was on schedule, we would be pulling into New Orleans, Louisiana. And one hour from now, I would be eating Jambalaya on Bourbon Street drinking an ice cold beer. It looks like our six-and-a-half hour stop in New Orleans may be reduced to thirty minutes. In an effort to satisfy my Cajun cravings, I still may attempt a Jambalaya run. I’m sure the scenario involving a last-minute plane ticket from New Orleans to Orlando to meet the train has happened more than once.