Texas is up, active, moving, happening. Louisiana is laissez faire, happily slow, relaxed. 2-lane, you pass enterprising men setting up trucks full of bulging watermelons on a hot holiday. You even pass a dozen vultures roosting on a deer carcass, having their own food festival. Luzian, by contrast, is not only listening to a different drummer, it is a slow drum roll.
Old ladies sit on porches fanning themselves.
Patrons at the gas stop saunter along the shaded path to the clerk rather than the direct route in the sun. Even the vultures have dragged their find into the bush to avoid the heat. Time is graceful here. Business road signs remind me of a common southern practice, but one that I associate with Louisiana. The manager at one of my first jobs was W.L. Jacobs, also known as Dub, who was from Baton Rouge and really had no name, just initials.