~  Busy Bees make the sweetest things  ~
Monday, May 1, 2006
a little love on Bourbon Street
Oh mi goodness! Just got back from New Orleans. One word. WOW. Can you say party from dusk ‘till dawn? If people say that the town is half dead, I’d be scared silly to see it at full capacity!

So a little background on the stay. Us four trouble makers –Mr. Ledebags, Dave the sales guy, and the crazy Irishman – stayed in the Prince Conti Hotel off of Bourbon St. and Conti St. This area is known as the French Quarter.
A little history…
La Nouvelle Orléans was founded in 1718 by Jean Baptiste La Moyne as the capital of Louisiana and a fortress to control the wealth of the North American interior for the French. Possession of Louisiana - named in honor of Louis XIV and his Austrian bride Queen Anne — changed from French to Spanish then back to French control before being sold to the United States in 1803.
None the less, it’s one HELL of a place to party. One night Bill went out to grab a bite to eat at 4:30am, and he said the city was just as alive as it was at ten o’clock that night.
Here, the party does not stop, and the same was true for us all weekend.
The whole point, I would like to add, of going on this trip was to attend The Jazz & Heritage Festival. Alas, that was not really in the cards for me.
On the first day of the festival, I awoke after a long, wild night, ready to go. But apparently, at 5pm, the festival was pretty much over. Great day one. That night we enjoyed the $1 beers, huge ass beers, the awesome selection of Daiquiris, and of course the Hand Grenades – the strongest drink (it's patented!) in New Orleans. Beads were falling like rain from the sky. The live band at the Famous Door bar was rockin’ somethin’ wicked! They were so good, that we danced and danced to them for a second night straight.
That night we partied like never before and I am happy to say that I was the first one to wake up the next morning – as well as the first one to give homage to the porcelain god. Five times in total we met, and each time afterward I thought it was the last.

Lesson # 31 : Do not drink 10 times as much as you eat. The stomach does not do math well.

Now day two of the jazz fest was here, and by golly, my loyal lads would not have me miss the entire point of the trip, no matter if I was giving them the silent treatment or not. They threw me into a cab, and the next 4 hours I can only describe as having malaria for lunch while seeing double. Friends at the jazz fest described me as ‘cold and clammy’ and ‘green as a bullfrog.’ A dozen bottles of water and a few mince meat pies later, I was good to go.
Had a blast dancing to the music and watching good ol’ Dave Matthews play some great guitar. At leaving time, it was Bill’s turn to say goodbye to the world. We made it on the bus, but lost Bill in the rain. Apparently he took another bus, wound up in a casino, and then fell asleep, only to wakeup broke and without a clue as to his whereabouts. The rest is a blur for the guy, but at rising time the next day he was sound asleep in his bed, so all was good.
As for the remaining three, we partied hardy yet again. Lots of dancing. Debauchery ensued after numerous Louisiana Hurricanes, with Kirin ripping his pants right down the middle, and goats running amok everywhere. We ended the night with the sweet taste of sugar-covered beignets on our lips, and slept quite soundly, waking with smiles on our faces.

An amazing, amazing city it was, and I had the best three nights than I’ve had in a long, long time. The Cajun cuisine was spectacular. I met a ton of awesome people, and hope to perhaps run into them sometime soon in the future.

Thank you to everyone I met in New Orleans: you have redefined the word awesome.

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