Arriving in New Orleans took longer than expected, but was well worth it. We drove over the I-10 Bridge, which I believe is a temporary bridge as the other one was washed out during Hurricane Katrina. It is an amazing feat that bridges can span that distance over Lake Pontchartain. Construction was under way for a new bridge.
After checking into the hotel room at the Royal Saint Charles, which is a block behind Canal St. on the opposite side of the French Quarter, we cleaned up and decided to head over the the French Quarter to check out some of the places that my Uncle Ben told me to visit. We wandered around, took some photos and watched some street performers. Pirate's Alley seemed like a place of interest, being that I love Pirates, Pirate jokes, and drinking Sailor Jerry and acting like a pirate. Some claim that Pirate's Alley was a place where wild shenanigans of yore took place, or that slaves were sold in the Saint Anthony's gardens adjacent to it, none of which are confirmed to be true, yet still a fascinating legend.
Since it is legal to walk (or stumble if you will) the streets of New Orleans with open containers of alcohol, we grabbed an Abita Ale to accompany us on a little touristy walk of the French Quarter. We then headed toward Bourbon St. On a Saturday afternoon in February, with the hint of upcoming Mardi Gras in the air, the French Quarter is a very happening place. Music fills the air from the myriad jazz clubs and bars lining the street.
We found one with a local Jazz band playing and ambled in. The Krazy Korner is on the corner of Bourbon and St. Peter Street. It had a wild band playing with a metal washboard and an accordian. We stayed a while, and continued to drink Abita until I started making friends with the bartender
and Jen was making friends with the band members.
We wandered back to the hotel in the evening, back up Bourbon Street, past the brothels and strip clubs toward Canal Street. I already knew I thought New Orleans was "bomb."
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