{Naveen's POV}

I am Prince Naveen of Maldonia. You may know me from VIP magazine. They published a whole page about me. But, some of the stories I tell are lies. For example, I'm not that rich. Even though someone is born royal, they cannot automatically be wealthy. With all the fame that princes have, I am the opposite. No fame. I doubt even one person knows my name.

"Your highness," The captain of my very own, personal yacht, starts.

"We are about to dock in New Orleans." The snow white bearded man says informally.

New Orleans is in Louisiana which is located in the Unites States of America. I've never heard of such a country but my parents-King and Queen, LeShawn and Opal-suggested that I should travel outside of our peaceful country, Maldonia. As their only son and heir to the throne once I get married, I obeyed my parents' orders and left. I'll only be in New Orleans for two weeks or so. I'll be back in my palace in Maldonia in no time!

The captain docks the giant ship near a docking post. Dozens of Americans are waiting to see me. Me of all people. How generous of them. I never expected a swarm of citizens to show up once I finally reach America.

As I get off my yacht and my formal attire is replaced by my casual clothes, women immediately surround me. I greet them, tip my green beret at them and smile.

I head into town. Some of the young women have left me but only a few stayed. I sense the smell of gumbo being served in a nearby restaurant. How I'd love to try some!

"Hello my good man." I say to the African American cook as I approach the restaurant.

"Well boy, what are you hungry for?" He asks me. I find his well trimmed mustache very appealing.

I take a seat in a booth right by the cashier counter. I scan the restaurant's menu. Uncle Tom's. What an odd name for a restaurant.

"Excuse me sir," I point out to the cook. He stares at me.

"I would like the Jambalaya please. Served hot and ready."

I don't know much about New Orleans but I've heard good thugs about it. First, their cuisine is to die for. Second, the people of New Orleans throw the best parties.

The cook takes my menu and heads back to the kitchen. Setting the dull colored menu in a slot by the cash register.

Ten minutes after daydreaming what I should do after lunch, a steaming hot plate of Jumbalaya appears in front of me. A very beautiful African American waitress smiles at me. Her name tag read, Tiana.

"Thank you Tiana." I thank the kind waitress. She leaves, holding the plate pan she was carrying under her arm.

I dig into my food. It was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. As I payed for my food, I gave Tiana a tip for the good service she was giving me.

I stroll out the door. The sun shining down on the city of New Orleans.