Following my brief stop at the Grand Canyon and a few nights in mediocre roadside hotels, I decided to stop in New Orleans. I had never been to the city and stopping there didn’t require a major detour, especially since, after hours on the interstate, I exited in the middle-of-nowhere to stealthily stalk the Swamp People.
After the obligatory stop at Cafe Du Monde to eat some beignets and drink some coffee, I wandered around the French Quarter to find a hotel. I made it a block away from the famous coffee shop (it was raining) before I claimed a room at the Place d’Armes. While my room lacked a window, the hotel was charming and the obvious lack of a view saved me some dollars. I spent the rest of the first day exploring parts of the city, taking photos, drinking a Hurricane at Pat O’Briens, and checking out the nightlife. After a brief stop on Bourbon Street (Dear Confused People, It’s not always Mardi Gras. I will not show you my boobs, nor do I want your beads.), I thankfully met a few friendly locals who were more than willing to give me recommendations on some of their favorite areas to indulge in a beer or two. The night ended successfully. However, my windowless hotel room made my grand plan of waking up early in order to get the most out of my unplanned trip slightly more difficult: “Please, just 10 more minutes. It’s still dark out.”
Hey girl! Take a picture of me smoking and put it on the internet. Or, facebook!
After a brief conversation, I found out that the man on the left travels the United States by mule. He has a donkey carry his things. Each cross-country trip takes him about 3-4 months. The man on the right has advanced degrees in psychology and offered to draw my portrait and psychoanalyze me. Needless to say, I do not have a portrait.