The Remanants Cling On

I was sitting in the front seat of my boxing teacher's truck driving back from my boxing lesson last night.

I love learning boxing from him (he's a great teacher and loves to make fun of me) and I love his stories and insights.

I think he's becoming one of my favorite people here.

So we are having yet another discussion about race and he notices that there's been a cop car in front of us for a few miles, going just the right speed to stay a few feet in front of the truck.

"You know, he just might pull me over and ask me what I'm doing with this white girl," says my teacher.

I laughed and thought he was joking.

I should have known better, this is New Orleans, where sarcasm stems from reality more often than anywhere else.