New Year's

I'm watching three men rattling away during the Mavericks-Pistons halftime. Its either comic or ridiculous, their commentary, its become a performance, but whatever, that's not the purpose of this session. We had just got back from Santa Fe, and everyone was back at work, when the question popped up, 'What's up for New Year's?'. Something Zubin said, occurred to me, and thus was born the idea of New Orleans. The planning was quick and dirty, we needed a place to stay and it took until Saturday for us to finally find a place to stay, almost ended up with the hobos next to Canal Street.

The drive down was uneventful, but New Orleans, Canal Street, and finally Bourbon Street was absolutely great. There were literally thousands of people crawling all over the place. The great thing about New Orleans is you're allowed to walk around with your drink. They take barhopping very literally, in fact while you're walking from one to the another, you run out, there're conveniently located stalls with beers or jello shots along the way. Being a novice, I had a great time, but around me there were veterans who put them away like there was no tomorrow and the performances that resulted were hilarious.

Dining in New Orleans requires a suspension of all limits, there is no such thing as having had enough, because you can't afford to feel that way. There's so much to try, and so little time. Gumbo, jambalaya, etoufee, fish, chicken (maybe), the list goes on. We found this exquisite little english pub, in Algiers, just south of the Canal Street Ferry dock. I had my first Irish Bomb, and for that alone I am thankful for having gone. Consider the oddity, an Irish drink, in an English pub, in a French-American city, in a suburb named after an African city.

We stayed in the French Quarter, except for a misadventure into the Garden District, entirely Arun's fault, and we saw no signs of any trauma, except of course for an overwhelming police presence. Go to New Orleans, people.