This Monday, the fam and I are heading back to one of my favorite cities…New Orleans. My pure love of “The Big Easy” didn’t come right away. My first trip took place during Mardi Gras when I was 28 years old… it wasn’t at all what I expected. After experiencing my first parade, the group I was with wasted no time and headed straight to Bourbon Street. The first thing I saw rounding the corner scarred me for life. This being a somewhat family blog… I can’t go into details, but is was gross, real gross. I couldn’t really enjoy the rest of my trip and vowed to never go back.
That next June I found myself driving in my 1983 Buick Regal Limited (Yes…I rocked a hoopty) down I-10 and thinking to myself, “Why am I going back?”. I’m glad I did. That trip started a love affair I’ve had with the city for almost 11 years.
New Orleans in June was hot…real hot. I finally understood why almost every movie I’ve ever seen about New Orleans has someone wiping the back of their neck with some sort of handkerchief… did I mention it was hot!? Their weren’t any of the insane crowds or drunk college kids stumbling and bumbling around or any “WOO” girls…you know, the ones that scream “WOO” at anything that strikes their fancy as truly “Wooable”. New Orleans became beautiful, mysterious and almost perfect.
New foods I had never tried seemed to be on every corner. Exotic drinks I had never heard of (No…not a hurricane. Try a Ramos Gin Fizz or a Bloody Mary from Brennan’s) truly washed away any previous bad experience I had. A visit to the Voodoo Museum provided thrills and a quick history lesson about the people of Louisiana. I truly began to fall in love with a “place”, an experience I had never had before.
I’ve since taken my family to Mardi Gras and hung out with a Krewe on St.Charles St. for Lundi Gras. To truly experience this kind of party, you gotta hang with the locals. Great people, great food…Let The Good Times Roll Baby!!!
So Monday I will board the plane knowing that sometimes the only cure for what I need is “New Orleans”.