When I awoke, the coach was entirely surrounded by water. I rose up out of my seat and peered round. No land to be seen in any direction, just a thin strip of road running across a flat expanse of water. Someone said confidently that it was the Mississippi River. It was just as if we were crossing a large and placid lake, a fact I've proudly recounted to awed listeners ever since.
Trouble is, it was a lake.
I just found out a couple of minutes ago when I checked up the spelling of Missipissi in an atlas. The real Mississippi was somewhere the other side of New Orleans. Bang goes another traveller's tale. Louisiana was a disappointment. One day, real soon now, I promise I'll get back there, but the coach just sped on through.