I arrived in New Orleans in the early evening on the 3rd of October. I checked into my hotel, changed, got refreshed and took a cab into town. The cab rolled into the bright madness that is New Orleans around 8pm. On the list of things to see was Jackson Square and the surrounding attractions. I wandered the streets, flowing with people, who were in turn flowing with beer and mixed drinks. On the first attempt to head to the square, I hopelessly missed my mark and ended up facing a riverboat. At this point I pulled out my trusty phone and studied the map with my little blue arrow to sort out this new place.
Jackson Square was closed that late at night, but the art sellers and fortune tellers were still out. I decided a palm reading would be interesting. I was hoping that my hands would immediately tell someone that I was an artist, and that I worked with my hands, had calluses and such. I sat down at a woman's table and she offered me hand sanitizer, then proceeded to say the same old script to me that she had undoubtedly told hundreds, if not thousands, of other tourists. She was good enough to pick up on environmental cues and told me what my body language told her. Thoroughly over that experience, I decided to see what the hubub on Bourbon Street was all about. To get to Burbon Street, one has to merely head toward the brightest, loudest things in the distance. Upon reaching this cacophony, you realize it's even bigger and brighter and louder than you thought.
Having accomplished that goal, I decided I would scope out some authentic New Orleans cuisine. Not immediately hungry, I decided I would work up an appetite by walking the full length of the French Quarter and checking out all of the places to eat. One of the most surprising things was the generous sprinkling of strip clubs and titty bars among the souvenir shops, bars, and jazz clubs. There was no red light district, it was a fairly continuous supply of nudie ladies along the entire street. On a different note, the live music was awesome and everywhere. There would be bars next to bars, speaker systems competing, bands having a grand old time.
I reached one end and decided one of the first places I saw was where I wanted to eat. It was called the Cajun Cabin and had a sampler plate that had all of the classic dishes tourists were supposed to try: red beans and rice, jambalaya, and gumbo. The food was good, the waiters were nice, and I was fed.
Since I completed my missions, I created another: find the gay district and go dancing! For this one the phone of all map knowledge was not used, and it was a failure. On my way toward some rainbow flags, two guys said hi, so I stopped to chat. After talking to them a few minutes I was a little creeped out by their intentions, so I went on my merry way.
I wandered along new streets, partly to avoid the creepy guys, partly to see as much as I could. I was ready to call it quits and flag down a taxi when I complemented a girl's top, and we started chatting. Her name was Michelle and she was a local. She was heading to a bar to meet up with some friends and invited me along. I gladly joined her. The bar was a good distance from Bourbon Street and a neat hangout. After having some great conversations, I looked at the time and decided to call it a night.
I flagged down a taxi and headed back to the hotel. The taxi driver was really chatty and I enjoyed his company. After getting into the room I collapsed into the giant fluffy bed and slept.
more to come...
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