I'm sure there are those that wish the rules of Vegas were also in place in New Orleans. You know, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." And it might not be a bad rule for NOLA, a place where food, drink and strippers rule. I spent last weekend in New Orleans, competing in my very first marathon. Yesterday I shared some of my favorite memories from the run itself. Of course there's much more to New Orleans than running and Laura, our friend Deb and I took advantage of what the city has to offer. So, here's my memories ( or what I can remember) of New Orleans...
* It's Midnight, let's get the party started: Laura and I got to our hotel at about Midnight on Thursday night and hit Bourbon Street right away. Just a couple of beers tonight. We started at a surprisingly quiet and laid back dive bar called Big Ass Beers. Yeah, that's right Big Ass Beers. There was a young, blonde woman serving (you guessed it) "Big Ass Beers." It seems she hates reality TV as much as we do, so we spent the night making fun of "Rock of Love" and all the people who came in for a Big Ass Beer and got sucked into the show. From Big Ass Beers, we moved on to a live music club with a bad cover band playing bad versions of bad hairband songs. When the band wasn't on stage, a guy from the bar "entertained" by "singing" along to more bad hairband songs and hitting on one particular young woman. She was married and there with her husband. He (the guy from the bar) was relentless.
* Let's Ride: I brought my bike along, so Friday morning started with a 90 minute ride through the city. I had no idea where I was going and I really didn't care. It just felt great to be riding outside! You should try it sometime. I really had not realized how much stronger I had gotten over the last few months. I was fast. Really fast, easily keeping up with the traffic as I rode through the streets of New Orleans. By the way- speaking of the "streets of New Orleans," they are not made for riding a road bike. I'm a little surprised my bike survived.
* Send me off that way please: Saturday afternoon as we were wandering around the French Quarter, we wandered into a little Irish Pub called Boondock Saintwhere we ran into a group of people from Australia. Eventually, another couple from Australia wandered in, but these two no longer live in Australia. They now live in Waukesha, Wisconsin- ever heard of it? Boondock Saint is right across from Preservation Hall, which happened to be the starting point for a Jazz Funeral.
A French Quarter Jazz Funeral
* Really, I just need the restroom: But, that would be rude, so I guess I'll buy a beer. As we walked back home from the marathon, all the water and gatorade that I drank during and after the race started to catch up with me, so we HAD to make a stop. And, like I said, it would be rude not to buy a beer. So we did.
* A dozen Oysters, please: Next stop, Acme Oyster Bar, where it turns out, several people where celebrating a well run race. We celebrated with a dozen oysters on the half-shell...and a po-boy...and another beer.
* Shop 'til you drop: Monday was shopping day. Up and down Royal Street, in and out of art galleries. Our favorite was a cool little local artists collective. The only problem was, the collective was up a flight of stairs. And stairs were more than a little bit of a challenge at that point. In fact, stepping from the sidewalk down onto the street or vice-versa was more than a little challenge at that point. I was just a bit sore.
* Another (Dirty) Dozen: On Tuesday morning, when we got to the airport we found out our flight to Chicago had been cancelled due to a storm hitting Chicago. So, we waited in line to get rerouted. We waited in line with none other than The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, who were flying through Chicago on their way to Milan. They got rerouted through Miami. We got rerouted through St. Louis. Oh, well.
