The wanderlust is kicking in again. I have been traveling for business a lot in the last few weeks, but they've been day trips in the tri-state region and I need to get out of here for awhile. I love New York to bits, but I got me a hankering to go somewhere new and breath another's state's air for a few days . When I usually get to this longing state, fate in the guise of a business trip somehow always manages to intervene. Thank Christ--I'm traveling next week to New Orleans.

Our company puts on a rather large medical congress that moves city to city every November. This year, we've rolled out some new initiatives including a new product that must succeed beyond mere mortal's expectations in a very short time. The honchos are collectively coming out from England to survey the debut of this product, recalling (for me anyway) the opening scene from "Reservoir Dogs." Let's just say that our ambitious CEO will play "Mr. White." Suffice to say, I'll be "Mr. Pink" (and if you don't know the film, Steve Buscemi played the character, so that should speak volumes). The pressure is on and staff is freaking out. Failure is not an option. But I'm not worried.

I have a solid partner in this venture: The Queen Bee. She's our market/research master and a strong, smart person. She's damned good on her feet and knows her business well. I enlisted her help to ensure our splash out at this event would be nothing short of perfection. Through much review of details and endless conference calls and e-mails, I'm confident we're going to pull it out like we invented the wheel. I'm sleeping at nights. All's right with the world. Mr. White will be at our feet, weeping with gratitude.

The nice thing about The Queen Bee, besides her solid business acumen, is her friendship. She's hell on wheels in getting the job done, but when we clock out, we go wild together. WILD. When we go to a business dinner together, we only fuel the impulsive nature in one another. It's dangerous and it's wonderful. She says what she thinks, sometimes to my absolute bewilderment. A favorite moment with the Queen took place at a sales meeting. There was some animosity between the Queen and our editor, Shiva, so I could see the Queen getting worked up as the meeting progressed. In the middle of some dry editorial review, the Queen suddenly snapped her fingers, whipped her hand like a lasso around her head and exclaimed out loud with defiance, "I am a proud BLACK woman. Do not call me an African American. I am a black woman." There was a long pause, before a few of us followed suit and did the same gesture and repeated her mantra, even though we are, you know. white. But it broke the silence. Bless her--she is fearless.

For this meeting, she and I travel together, we hang together and I look to her for that positive nod that indicates it's all working. If she says, "I have a concern"--I listen. We fix it. No, this show will work and we'll make it happen. Mr. White and all the colors of the corporate rainbow will be pleased. At at the end of the long days, we will leave the show and do what we do best as friends--we'll have a superb meal. We'll have one too many drinks. We'll get a little crazy. It's all perfectly splendid.

When we were planning for this trip, I warned the Queen in advance to get some extra sleep this week. I know New Orleans well and one of the nights, we're going to my favorite club there, Tipitina's. The Midnight Disturbers are playing, there's funk and blues on tap and Mr. Pink needs to go out dancing with a bunch of strangers till 3 am.

And the Queen Bee listened thoughtfully, then conjured up her standard line, "Bitch. Bring IT!"