I got back from New Orleans yesterday but was too pooped from traveling and unpacking for any long posts. All in all, I had a pretty good time even though the only person I knew in the group was my brother's fiancee.
The flight out from San Diego was early (6:40 a.m.!!!) and packed. Continental has some snarly employees. I got yelled at for trying to board too early ("wait until your row is called!!!") and one of the flight attendants snarled at me for blocking the aisle even though I was standing up so the guy in the middle seat could sit down. Sheesh. During the flight, I watched Step It Up 2: The Streets, a weird mix of Breakin' and Flashdance, until my iPod hearbugs plug got stuck in the seat arm socket, then tore from the cord. Waaah :(. Then over El Paso we hit some scary clear air turbulence. Yikes!
There was only 53 minutes to spare between the arrival in Houston and the flight to New Orleans and of course I got dumped in another concourse. I ran huffing and puffing through the airport and got to the gate with 7 minutes to spare before boarding. Whew!
As it turned out, one of the girls attending the "non-bachelorette party weekend" was on the same flight. After waiting a long time to pick up our bags, we shared a cab to the bed and breakfast.
Fourteen of us total took over a small b&b in the Garden District. All of the other gals were friends the bride-to-be knew from school or from her hometown, except for her pregnant sister. The b&b was pretty cool, a restored home built in 1858 with awesome décor, a lovely little courtyard, two cats, and two cute dogs. I kept trying to pet the bigger dog but he liked playing this odd game of running away when I'd come near him, then walking up to me if I turned away. The breakfasts there were great. I officially like grits now!
On Friday night we went to Jacques-Imo's, which I suppose is well-known in N.O.. The place looks like a ramshackle hole in the wall and the bartender is a lunatic, but the food is awesome. Not cheap, but awesome. A couple of the ladies ordered the fried chicken plate. This was the largest bird I'd ever seen that could still legally be called a chicken. Wow! I got shrimp etouffee. Mmmm. Afterwards, some of our crew wanted to go to the bar next door but they were charging $20 cover for a band and I just wasn't feeling it after getting up at 4:30 that morning. Those of us who wanted to go back to the b&b waited a long time for a streetcar, then waited a long time for a cab while sipping Italian sodas at a coffee house. One thing I picked up quickly about New Orleans, besides the heat and humidity, was it's um, unique pace. Don't be in a hurry to get anywhere in New Orleans because absolutely no one there is ever in a hurry for any reason. It's island time on Nyquil. I joked that it makes San Diego look like Switzerland.
The next morning after a long breakfast discussion about Facebook and the bride-to-be's magically magnetic clutch purse, we walked about a mile from the b&b to the French Quarter. That's what happens when you vacation with athletic people ;). It was hellaciously hot and humid. I bought a bottle of water at the first coffee place we came to. I felt like dumping it on my head. Because it was fourteen chicks, we stopped off at any cute boutique on the way over. I ended up with a great little clutch bag and necklace, but you don't care about that, do you? Anyway, we got to Jackson Square and I started snapping pix. My brother's fiancee said the Quarter is her least favorite part of town because it's every N.O. stereotype packaged for the tourists. It is touristy with its share of ubercheese and some streets were as stinky as New York in July during a garbage workers' strike. But it was still pretty fascinating and not all of the shops were bad. There were lots of voodoo shops, including one with the catchphrase, "May the curse be with you." That must be the official Sith slogan or something. For lunch, we chowed down on beignets from Café Du Monde and some muffaletas while parked near the Mississippi River as we heard various street musicians. That was fun. The area has a lot of buskers and street acts. One guy from a breakdancing crew told the rather large audience watching them that their tips keep the breakdancers from two places, the poor house and the no-house. Covered with powdered sugar, we went over to Pat O'Brien's, the bar that invented the hurricane (drink). This lady at the table next to us was three sheets to the wind, and was laughing so loud, you could hear her halfway across the place. It was like having a drunk Salacious Crumb right next to you. Evil stares did nothing to stop her.
Afterwards, I had to go check out the famed Marie Laveaux's House Of Voodoo on Bourbon. It's pretty small and it was crammed with all kinds of occultish and religious accoutrements. There were some voodoo altars set up with warnings not to touch them because it's bad luck. I ended up buying a book on New Orleans' ghosts and voodoo history. The rest of Bourbon Street is pretty much a temple of tacky. Part of it is Boys' Town, if you catch my drift, but the rest of it consists of cheesy gift shops and places that sell hand grenades (drinks) in plastic tubes that look like bongs. Of all of the stinky streets, Bourbon reeked the most. When Sting wrote "Moon Over Bourbon Street," I'm pretty sure he'd never been there before.
Trivia: Brangelina's place is in the Quarter and my brother's fiancee managed to find the exact location the last time she was in town from the mailman.
Eventually I broke away from everyone else to buy some souvenirs and check out St. Louis Cathedral back on Jackson Square. There was a wedding going on--one of three scheduled for that day--so I was told to come back after 4 p.m.. It was worth the wait because it really is a beautiful cathedral. I noticed the Stations of the Cross were all in French, owing I suppose to the town's French colonial history. Being a semi-good Catholic girl, I thought I'd light one of the votive candles for prayerful purposes. Well, the darn wicks wouldn't light and the flame was going up the stick, so I panicked and blew out the stick. In the process, I blew out a few of the candles. Ooops. I hoped the guy praying the rosary a few rows of pews away from me didn't notice :(.
I figured it was time to roll on back to the b&b and had a devil of a time finding a cab. I had to walk a couple of blocks and cross the street. Of course, I needed to go in the opposite direction and the cab driver made the world's most illegal U-turn in heavy traffic. Eeek! But I made it back in one piece.
That evening, we had a crawfish boil at the b&b. They brought out a big tub of crawfish with corn, potatoes, bread, salad, and cheesecake for dessert. It was messy business cracking open that crawfish. Some of the girls were a little icked out by the whole process. Afterwards, we walked up Magazine St. to a bar. My brother's fiancee said it was "only a 20 minute walk" but it was more like a 45 minute hike. That's what happens when you vacation with athletic people. Luckily I wore flats. We hung around this bar for a while, munching on yummy cheese fries. Then after I got back to the b&b, I wasn't feeling well, like I was coming down with something. "Oh no, not like Celebration last year," I thought. Was it a voodoo curse? Was it a bad piece of crawfish? Was God mad at me for accidentally blowing out those candles in the cathedral?? Oh well, I felt a tad bit better the next day and continued to feel better the rest of the day. Given the number of mosquito bite welts all over my legs and a couple on my arms, I wonder if my temporary icky feeling came from the mosquitoes.
On Sunday, it shot up to 92 degrees. Since there wasn't anything scheduled during the day until late afternoon, I decided to head out to Riverwalk and Canal Place downtown since they were air conditioned. On the way over there, the cab passed by the convention center. I asked the cab driver if conventions have come back to the town since the hurricane and he said not that many, but it's slowly picking up again. That's a shame. I guess nobody wants to be stuck there the next time a storm rolls through. Anyway, Riverwalk was basically a big food court with lots of souvenir places. This was the place that got nailed by a boat or barge about 13 years ago. I picked up some souvenirs for my co-workers, then braved the crazy heat for the walk between Riverwalk and Canal Place. Canal Place is a small fancy pants mall with the benefit of air conditioning. My mom's former boss works at the Saks Fifth Avenue there, so I decided to see if she was in that day. It turns out she was off all weekend. Oh well. I did a little bit of shopping, at some salad for lunch, called my mom, and headed back to the b&b for a nap.
Later on, we took a streetcar to The Columns Hotel, where the pedophile favorite Pretty Baby was filmed, for cocktails. Then we went to the Upper Line restaurant for dinner. The warm brie salad I ordered as an appetizer wasn't anything special, but the rest of the meal was great. Veal with cheese grits. Mmm. Creme brulée. Double mmm. Most of the girls wanted to go to the Le Bon Temps Roule afterward, but since my flight was early the next morning, I bailed and went back to the b&b to pack. It's just as well. When I finished, I could relax, read, and catch the last hour of ROTJ on Spike. Yes, the b&b had full cable! Internet access too, so I was able to do a little surfing on my iPod.
Fearing a mess at the airport, I left the b&b with three other girls at 8:30 the next morning. It turns out, it was a breeze to check in (despite snarling Continental employees) and get through security. It was smooth sailing all of the way back to S.D., except for the shrieking toddler who woke me from my nap.
It was interesting to hang with non-fannish people to say the least. Not that we're all teetotalers, but I'd forgotten during my years in geekville that we don't socialize around drinking as much as other people do. These gals could really hold their liquor too :O. But yeah, except for one other person, their movie of the summer is Sex and the City. But it was cool, they were all really nice and enjoy having fun. I told the bride-to-be I'll have to bring her to Comic Con sometime, heh heh.
Pictures are soon to follow!
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