N’awlins Round 3

New Orleans is a place I always thought I could live in, since my first  visit.  A place that threw a non stop party, filled with like-minded people that all wanted to dance, drink and eat their faces off. However, due to the fact that most people carry weapons, I decided I would never feel fully comfortable and moved to Boston instead. That was back in 2005.  

We decided to re arrange our itinerary on this here ride to Louisiana.  We left my aunts 7:45am in an attempt to make it to New Orleans in good time.  That actually put us in our hotel at 5pm!  Also factoring in the extra hour we gained in the Central Time zone.

We check in and unpack our stuff.  As Roni gets ready, I call my Mom and Aunt to let them know I made it there safe and a tornado didn’t hammer down and fly off with us.  The day before we left there was a  tornado that hit Alabama, as well as Dallas/Fort Worth Texas and left two inches of snow in Albuquerque NM. 

Our ride was a little hazy as for the weather, but still mid 70’s and feels like summer as I am wearing a tank top and jean skirt.

The sky opens up as we cross the long bridge into Louisiana.

Finally, we leave the hotel and I squeal with delight, “We are in New Orleans!”

I first get my bearings and walk towards the fun. The tree on the waterfront is lit up with a fleur-de-lis on top!

Man do I freaking love this place. 

I spent 3 days in 2005 then 4 days in like 2007/8 and haven’t been back since.  I first bring Roni to Bourbon Street and grab us some slushee grain alcohol drinks.  The Jester, a curiously strong concoction, intrigues Roni and I opt for the Passionfruit.

  This thing is so good and refreshing I am giving myself brainfreeze chugging it down.

To me, a beach vacation doesn’t start officially until I have a Piña Collada in my hand and here I am two days after Christmas in 80 degree weather, loving life.

The streets smell of feces more than I remember.

Our first stop in for a drink on Bourbon Street is the Funky Pirate. Lured in by the music coming from the back we grab beers and sing for a few songs then meander away. Next is a dueling piano bar that features a guy dressed in a tin man shirt, who I later realize is creating music via spoons. He comes over to me and I start dancing with him.  He quickly pulls me to the dance floor, even though no one else is dancing. Then he hands me a cow bell and we rock out for a song. 

We eat at Pier 424 upon the bartender recommendation.  I have a blackened redfish and Roni gets a fried gator po boy, when in Rome my friends! Then we head over to Frenchman Street.

Frenchman is the more authentic jazz area. You can catch some amazing musicians without even a cover and dance the night away. We swing into a few places and get our dance on again.

We leave early because Roni doesn't feel too well and vomits on the street. We make our way down Bourbon one last time. I grab a $4 hurricaine and an ice water for her and dance our way to Walgreens for some wine and twix bars. I only drink a half a glass...