Red beans and rice. Jambalaya. Crawfish etouffe. Muffuleta. Gumbo. Po boys. New Orleans is a food town. We eat food. It's a natural combination, so we decided to check it out. Plus, they have not one, not two, but three Kinko's. Talk about your Big Easy -- this was the easiest we'd seen yet. We'd have network access anywhere we wanted it and eat well to boot.
| The drive from Houston took about six sweaty hours, and we rolled into New Orleans about 5:30, ready for food. Back in Austin, Sean and Jill had given us a tip on a cheap hotel near the French Quarter to check out -- the Prytania Inn, a block off St. Charles. After some minor fuddling about, we managed to get ourselves pointed in the correct direction. New Orleans is a little confusing to drive in -- it's full of one-way streets, odd turnarounds, and a streetcar named "Deathwish." Couple that with the complete absence of left turns in the entire city, and you have a recipe for an adventuresome automotive frolic. |  |
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However, Otto was under the firm helmsmanship of the stout-hearted Kristanne
the Vigorous! In a trice, Kristanne cut off two streetcars and a half-dozen
gospel-singing conventioneers as she angled for the lone parking spot remaining
on Prytania Street. Two crumpled import sedans later, we were parked and ready to check in,
tires still smoking from their workout on the mean streets of New Orleans.
I was a little shaky from the excitement, but Kristanne just gave me her best
"don't be a wimp" look, as she scooped up our belongings and headed inside. She's
a little bit frightening when she's been driving for awhile.
The Prytania Inn turned out to be pretty....well, quaint. It consisted of several somewhat renovated older houses, with the bedrooms now turned into hotel rooms. Though the rooms were small, they were modestly appointed, and somewhat haphazardly put together (the shower curtain rod, for example, was shimmed out with four bars of soap so that it would reach all the way to the wall). Nonetheless, there was a certain charm about the place, old as it was. Plus, the price was beyond right (only $30 for a room very close to downtown), and who wants to stay in their room when they're in New Orleans, anyway? |
Well, actually, I kinda do, so long as there's air conditioning, maybe some good room service, and cable tv. Since our room only had the air conditioning, though, we headed out, bound for the Quarter. We caught the St. Charles streetcar downtown, which ran us a well-spent buck, and got off at Canal and Bourbon streets. Ahh, Bourbon Street -- storied site of lust, debauchery, and bad craziness since the days of Jean Lafitte. We walked its malodorous miles and sampled its seedy charms, amazed that one street could support so many generic bars featuring daiquiris-to-go as their chief selling point. Well, some had karaoke, too. The daiquiris would have to wait, though -- we were starving. We walked about four blocks from Bourbon down towards the Mississippi River, the Big Muddy, the Old Man. There, we feasted on fried oysters and shrimp creole. Delicious -- I could eat cajun food from now until Pat Boone records a gangstah rap album (which I kinda hope he does). Thus fortified, we went out to check out some jazz at the Old Absinthe House, and just generally have a good ole time, New Orleans style. We even bought fake Aaron Neville moles from a street vendor and put them on. It made me feel like singing a duet with Linda Ronstadt. All in good fun, Aaron! No need to kick my ass! |
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After a little bit more exploring, we headed back to the hotel. I had some work to do, and we both wanted to be ready to see a few sights in New Orleans before heading out to Florida.
Total Miles for 7/9 = 390