The Big Easy

Upon the recommendation of a helpful soul in Jackson, we detoured from our original route and headed South to New Orleans.  The drive was fairly uneventful, especially since the other three slept for about 150 of the 230 mile trip.  They did wake up, however, just in time to enjoy the awesome terrain of swamps and ocean-sized lakes as we approached the city.

We parked the car Uptown near the Garden District and began a nice walk through some beautiful residential areas heading generally toward the French Quarter.  Upon stopping in a park for a brief respite we had an enlightening discussion with a former Vietnam Vet on topics as diverse as the Old Testament, Rebuilding New Orleans, Revelations, and the Bible Belt.  Unfortunately we had a schedule to keep so we eventually tore ourselves away and continued on.  The excitement grew as we confirmed that New Orleans has no open container laws, truly a society far ahead of the rest.  Bourbon Street greeted us with a Bride-to-Be passed out on the sidewalk from her Bachelorette party.  Ocho was kind of to help one of the bridesmaids pick her up off the ground before the rest of the bridal party convened outside the bar.

We found a nice little hole in the wall with $2.50 beers for happy hour.  As we cheers ourselves for having made it to New Orleans and slowly sipped our nice cold beverages, the clues slowly started to build up.  The bartender was quite charismatic.  There are a lot of guys here.  This magazine with a picture of a guy with a ripped chest makes for interesting reading material. "Celebrate 20 years of dancing over the rainbow."  The big screen has a picture of several half naked men and wants us to come back on Wednesdays for "Booty Boys."  Yup, our first bar was a gay bar and Johnny and I weren't even being hit on.  Oh well, cheap beer is cheap beer.  Ocho was the first to make this discovery as she asked LT2 whether there would be a woman's bathroom or not.

As we left the wonderful establishment, which upon exiting we realized had no less than five rainbow flags hung above its entrance and could not be mistaken for anything other than a gay bar from miles away, we took advantage of the location and bought some drinks to enjoy as we walked the rest of Bourbon Street.  We made our way back to toward the car, grabbing dinner at a nice cafe along the way and stopping at the Robert E. Lee monument.  We then drove to our host's house, and in the true fashion of Southern Hospitality, were told that they were out to dinner but we should let ourselves in and make ourselves at home.  Our hosts soon arrived home and were shocked that we had neglected to make ourselves drinks in their absence.  After several beers and cocktails, we poured ourselves some roadies and headed to meet up with others.

At the first apartment we arrived at we were greeted with daiquiris from a gallon milk container.  The shock on our faces was evident, but they explained simply that they had got it from the daq shop up the street, where you can get 16oz cups, or a gallon of daq.  We had to see this with our own eyes, as well as buy a gallon of daiquiri.  After some jello shots while settling on a flavor, we went with strawberry lemonade and never looked back.  The party then soon moved to bars which we would never be able to find in New Orleans again for the life of us.  A highlight would be Snake and Jakes, a bar which is best described as what would happen if the guy in your town with the most unkempt lawn with automobile parts strewn everywhere opened a bar in his garage.  It was phenomenal.  Following this was The Boot.  Another fine establishment that at the moment I can't remember whether I actually went into or not.

The night was so amazing that the four of us forgot to take our traditional end of the night photo.  Some people just can't handle New Orleans.  Our host graciously walked us back to our lodgings for the night where everyone was asleep within seconds. Now we're off to Dallas where I'm sure we'll encounter some more great stories.