New Orleans 2008 - Day One: "Hurricanes and Horse Drool"

So almost 2 years after the Katrina trip, I was able to join Kristin and PJ for some New Year's fun in New Orleans.

The traveling process itself was uneventful. My parents generously donated some expiring miles to allow me to ride in first class, which I'm coming to believe is simply the section for rich alcoholics. Yes, I know the booze is free, but that doesn't mean you have to double-fist it the moment yout roller bag is stowed in the overhead compartment. In my limited first class experience, I have yet to have a flight where at least one person sitting around me doesn't get completely plastered before we reach our cruising altitude.

This trip was no exception. I was originally seated next to a 12 year old, who switched seats so that he could sit near his mom. My new seatmate, an executive in her 50's, explained she was happy the kid moved to another row because "She didn't feel comfortable drinking in front of children." I nodded sagely and went back to my book. She summoned the flight attendant and asked for the first of what would be about 4 vodka and Sprites for the day. She would then spend the next 2 hours telling me about a family tragedy she had suffered over the holidays in graphic detail, ignoring my politely dismissive nods, and my nose firmly planted in a book. Did I mention it was 7:30 in the morning?

We had a plane full of football fans, as I believe everyone from the state of Hawaii left the islands to see their home team play in the Superdome. We took off from John Wayne early Sunday morning, and arrived in New Orleans at about 4 in the afternoon. We got the rental car, and were on our way to a weekend of what we hoped would be a symphony of food, drink, football and general merriment.

Our hotel, the Homewood Suites, was a very nice hotel a block or two from the Superbowl. Since it was the holiday and two big football games were coming, security measures were stepped up in the hotel. All guests needed to wear a green wristband and have a room key to even get into the lobby of the hotel. If you didn't have both, you were out of luck. We were also given red wristbands to any guests we would want to bring in. We were given three each, and in an homage to Seinfeld, had to determine whether or not individuals were " Wrist-band worthy."

The desk clerk at the hotel was friendly, as almost everyone in New Orleans is, and gave us the rundown on what we should and shouldn't do in the city. We were told that it was perfectly safe in the city because (and I quote) "we have the National Guard here and everything." Yeah, I had seen enough news stories and episodes of "Cops - Mardi Gras" to know that keeping an eye out for trouble at all times was a good idea.

We caught up with PJ a short time later, and made dinner plans. K and I were both starving, but the big group couldn't meet until a bit later. We decided to grab a quick bite at McDonalds to tide us over until we could eat the big meal with everyone.

Going to McDonalds on Canal Street was something of an experience. It was packed with people, and employed by six of the least motivated individuals I have ever seen. Having lived a couple of years in the south, I realized that things moved a lot slower here than they did back home, but this took it to the extreme.

Strawberri (the actual name on her badge), the only one working the cash register, greeted customers with the same level of interest I have for cleaning the cat box. She spoke in a mumble, and having to repeat herself seemed like a terribly arduous chore. We waited about 15 minutes for her to take the orders of three customers. In that time we listened to two older gentlemen harrassing the rest of the workers in a somewhat friendly manner, and were approached by a man looking for a dollar. None of us could get out of there fast enough.

On the walk back to the hotel, we found this little hole-in-the wall bar, "Marie Laveau's Voodoo Bar" manned by a 20-something bartender named Sabrina. She was extremely friendly and sat and chatted with us about the city for quite some time. She also made a deadly lemon drop, with which we toasted the start of a fantastic trip.

PJ had three people working for him, two of which came to dinner with us. When everyone was together, we took a cab down to the Garden District for Hurricanes and hamburgers at a bar that was the first to open after Katrina. One bite of the burger and it was easy to see why the place was packed. Just fantastic food, and wonderful drinks. The hurricanes came in 32 ounce glasses and while they were almost entirely alcohol, they tasted dangerously like Hawaiian Punch. Then it was a slow walk back to the hotel through the French Quarter, taking in the sights and working our way through the crowds.

The thing I love most about the French Quarter is its cacophony of sound. Stop in any part of the Quarter, and you can hear at least 4 different live bands playing at the same time....and all of them are outstanding. Jazz, zydeco, blues, rock, it all blends together and draws you in. I could walk along and listen there for hours.

The majority of Burbon Street was packed with people, getting drunker with every passing hour. Boosters from Hawaii, Georgia and LSU rented balconies, and packed them with bead tossing fans. Naturally people were gathering below to cheer, talk smack and try and catch beads. This blocks off the street, and makes it very difficult to get past. Threading your way through the crowds can be a challenge, but not terrible.

We did have one incident where we unwittingly walked into the middle of a fist-fight that had started in a bar and made its way onto the street. Two guys wrestled each other to the ground right in front of us...and PJ, who never misses an opportunity to stir the pot, makes a comment suggesting that they belonged in the gay bar at the opposite end of Bourbon streets. .....and then continues walking.

What he didn't see (but Kristin and I did) was the fact that one of the drunken rednecks took exception to the fact that PJ questioned his heterosexuality, and started to go after him. A couple of his buddies stopped him before a punch was thrown, but it was a tense moment.

It was at that point when we decided to call it a night. We started working our way through the crowds back to the hotel, and a felt something brush against the top of my head. Kristin pulled me out of the way of one of the NOPD mounted police horses, who was kind enough to get horse drool on the back of my head. Though horse drool is probably better than some other bodily fluid, it wasn't the souvenior I was hoping to take home with me that night.

Came home a little after midnight, looking forward to a fun New Year's Eve. Will share more with photos tomorrow. ;)

K