Uncle Bubba traversed the Tensaw Delta like a skippin' stone skittering across bayou. He was clicking down 65 south through the cypress stands as the twin towers of the bridge, like great arched ladders rose into view on the horizon. The elevated highway merges onto 165 which mercifully carries it's travelers over the rough areas of Prichard with Mobile on the near horizon. Its a task to take in Mobile coming in off of 165 because it literally drops you off on North Waters Street which runs along the docks on the left and the City on the right. The enormous cranes, lined up like so many gargantuan skeletal bones at a museum; quietly looming, waiting for they're prey to pass by. The city itself is the epitome of a southern port town. It's southern charms are typically grand, formal, and quaintly dignified. The historic downtown area around Dauphin St. and Joachim St. is dressed in wrought iron lace and its own rival to the New Orleans French Quarter.
Uncle Bubbie has landed and checked in to bed down for the night, but not before a nightcap at Veet's Bar on Royal St.; Doug Previto and the Family Jewels are layin' it down as usual. In Bubbie's view, a few days and nights in Mobile is gonna be a great thing.
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