Mississippi Steamboat

"This is booooo-rrrrring," B complained. I couldn't blame him here. Short of the initial excitement of buying tickets, where there was a pirate and his parrot available for photo ops, lining up to get on while listening to a calliope play and getting our group picture taken next to the Natchez, we hadn't done much but sit on hard deck chairs. True, a heavily accented sailor was giving us a tour over the sound system. True there was an engine room to visit. Neither of those held any appeal for B. So he sat, with a bottle of Fanta barely touched. We had mojitos, which made our tour considerably more pleasant. "Okay, if you answer these three questions, you can have your iPod," I relented. "What is the name of the city we are visiting?" He hesitated but dredged up the right answer. "New Orleans." "What is the name of the river we are currently on?" This he knew right away. "Mississippi." "Okay. Last question. What kind of music is New Orleans known for?" This proved to be the toughest question for B. He had to be given two hints "Starts with 'j' and ends with 'z'." "Jazz!" He shouted, holding his hand open for the prize. B's father, who had joined us, shook his head. "Poor kid. And he's right. This is boooooooo-rrrrrrring."