Returned from New Orleans yesterday, and am slowly getting back into the swing of things. I don’t get jet lag, not really, though I did take today off from work. The extra day, while not necessary, gives me a chance to drift back into the non-vacation, real-world mindset. Compose myself into a reasonably functioning adult again.
Whenever I travel by plane I am reminded of William Gibson’s theory on jet lag from PATTERN RECOGNITION. That one’s mortal soul cannot travel as swiftly as a plane and so gets left thousands of miles behind, and has to be waited on, like lost luggage.
New Orleans was fantastic. It had been 12 years since I was last there, which was far too long. Got to spend four days with Kat, one of my favorite people in the world, who also flew in, from Colorado. Gorged myself on delicious food, had
all of the many only like one or two drinks, wandered up and down and around the Quarter, and just generally had a wonderful time.
Aside: I also got waaay more steps than usual. Typically my target is 5,000 a day, and 10,000 on my cardio day. But being sans car, out and about all day, and
perpetually fueled by alcohol having had a drink or two, I was able to destroy those numbers. See?
Also, as of yesterday, I amranked number 2 amongst my Fitbit friends for the 7-day step total. That is unlikely to ever happen again, so I am savoring it, and certainly won’t gloat about it to any of them. /Aside
Here are some photos from the trip, when I actually remembered to take them. Even so, I still had 150-plus to sort through. Digital cameras are both a blessing and a curse that way.
We stayed at the Dauphine Orleans Hotel, which in a past life was apparently a popular bordello. The skeleton playing the piano was located in the attached bar, May Bailey’s Place.
Low-light selfies taken in a bar are, of course, a must on any trip.
One of the first days in town we wandered by a club and saw that a band Kat really likes, Thao & the Get Down Stay Down, would be playing while we were there. They put on a really fucking good show.
Even though the hotel was only a block away Bourbon Street, we only spent one night wandering it. Too many drunks, shitty bars, and street hustlers. At one of the least terrible places we could find, I ordered a Hand Grenade, because New Orleans, but it was vile. So vile, I couldn’t finish it. (I have a fantastic picture of Kat looking miserable while drinking hers, but I am a kind man, and won’t share it.) The bartender didn’t even know what was in a Hand Grenade, he explained, because they and a lot of the other bars on Bourbon St order a mix.
Other than drinking, I did do cultural stuff, like go to a museum called La Pharmacie Francaise. Its walls were filled with old-timey bottles of elixir and tonic, and a bunch of weird medical implements which were equal parts fascinating and horrifying.
However, my favorite thing in the museum was this portrait. Not sure who it is supposed to be, though I suspect it’s Chevy Chase in one of his Fletch disguises.
My second favorite thing in the museum was this print, the Surgeon’s Warning. I wish my doctor would put this up in his office.
A lovely little courtyard outside the pharmacy museum. Also: a Kat.
Badass street performers, one of whom played an electric violin.
My second favorite bar was Yuki, located on Frenchman Street. It gave off a really Blade Runnerish vibe. This is a wall in their bathroom. (I know, I take pictures of only the finest things.)
There were a lot of blue lights at the place across from Yuki, which made for fun photos.
My favorite bar was Club Tonique. We found it by googling “hip bars French quarter,” because we are terrible people. Tonique was a blast, and made the best drinks. We went one of the first nights there, then back again our last afternoon in New Orleans and remained there for several hours.
A lovely city, excellent company, sunshine, no work — what more could a person ask for.