Mardi Gras and Mississippi
Saturday, March 05, 2010 8:19 AM
I am sitting at the dining room table waiting to leave. In about 20 minutes we will throw in our carry-ons, and make the 30 minute drive to Denver International Airport, check in at Southwest Airlines, go through security, and then wait nearly two hours to leave for New Orleans and Mardi Gras. As Jessi puts it; Beads, Boobs, and Beer. Actually, I’m kind of hoping she is right.
Margo and I aren’t much partiers, anymore. In truth, she never was, and I haven’t been rip roaring drunk for over a decade. I doubt that is going to change, but the thought of trying a Hurricane or a Hand Grenade does have some appeal. We plan to attend parades on Mardi Gras Day, Tuesday the 8th. From what I have read it is a lock that we will come back with more beads than we could possible want. That just leaves the boobs. I have no idea how prevalent flashing is on Bourbon St. But, I did learn that the practice is isolated, by selective code enforcement, to the French Quarter. Inside the French Quarter, nudity above the waist is tolerated, although still against the law. Outside the FQ, you go to jail. Public urination, incidentally, is the most common reason for getting locked up.
Even with all of that said, I am a little apprehensive about this trip. Neither Margo nor I are crazy about large crowds, and I already mentioned the non-party thing. But I have plenty of places picked out to see, and we have four different tours planned. I think we will be able to escape the worst of the crowds, should we choose. The preamble is now complete, and in 15 minutes our Mardi Gras adventure starts.
I am sitting at the dining room table waiting to leave. In about 20 minutes we will throw in our carry-ons, and make the 30 minute drive to Denver International Airport, check in at Southwest Airlines, go through security, and then wait nearly two hours to leave for New Orleans and Mardi Gras. As Jessi puts it; Beads, Boobs, and Beer. Actually, I’m kind of hoping she is right.
Margo and I aren’t much partiers, anymore. In truth, she never was, and I haven’t been rip roaring drunk for over a decade. I doubt that is going to change, but the thought of trying a Hurricane or a Hand Grenade does have some appeal. We plan to attend parades on Mardi Gras Day, Tuesday the 8th. From what I have read it is a lock that we will come back with more beads than we could possible want. That just leaves the boobs. I have no idea how prevalent flashing is on Bourbon St. But, I did learn that the practice is isolated, by selective code enforcement, to the French Quarter. Inside the French Quarter, nudity above the waist is tolerated, although still against the law. Outside the FQ, you go to jail. Public urination, incidentally, is the most common reason for getting locked up.
Even with all of that said, I am a little apprehensive about this trip. Neither Margo nor I are crazy about large crowds, and I already mentioned the non-party thing. But I have plenty of places picked out to see, and we have four different tours planned. I think we will be able to escape the worst of the crowds, should we choose. The preamble is now complete, and in 15 minutes our Mardi Gras adventure starts.
March 05, 2011, Saturday, Day One
Our flight into New Orleans was interesting only in the fact that in all our years of traveling Margo and I have never made a stop at another airport, and did not change planes. And on this flight we did it twice. We stopped at Oklahoma City, and then we flew to Dallas. From Big D it was off to New Orleans. It broke up the monotony a bit, but it did add about an hour forty minutes to our travel time. On our first leg the plane was full, and about well over half of the people got out. But we only added 90 (seating was about 320ish), so Margo and I had a section to ourselves. The flight to New Orleans from Dallas was about the same. I actually fell asleep for about five minutes right before we landed in New Orleans. The jolt from the landing woke me up.
We took a taxi to our hotel, The Quality Inn and Suites, on O’Keefe, in the Central Business District. The hotel is about a block from Canal Street, which is the divide to the French Quarter, and the ending spot for most of the parades. So we are close to the action, and the noise. Our cabbie was an African man who was quiet most of the way. I really wasn’t attention to radio early on. This was only the 3rd cab trip I have ever taken, and I was enjoying it. Then all of a sudden I noticed the song was “Tequila Makes Her Cloths Fall Off”. I thought that song was both appropriate for the occasion and unusual for the heritage of the driver. Later on, after the driver had broken the ice and asked us where we were from, I commented that I liked his taste in music. He thanked me and said it helped to keep his blood pressure under control. That got a chuckle out of both Margo and I.
We got to the hotel and got checked in with a minimal amount of trouble. The room, which they upgraded for us, was still on the small side. But, the bed turned out to be pretty comfortable and everyone at this hotel is very nice. This is among the top customer service we have ever seen at a hotel. After we got a few things unpacked, we headed downstairs for dinner. We were good and hungry. I wanted to try some New Orleans food, and at the desk they gave us a few choices. We decided on a place called Oceana Grill, about three blocks deep into the French Quarter, at Bourbon and Conti.
This made for the perfect excuse to head down Bourbon Street. I had only a rough idea of what to expect. I expected to be crowded. It was insane. Canal Street, which as we were to find out divides the French Quarter (the Creole side) from the American side, was busy, but almost as soon as we turned the corner onto Bourbon it was like we were in another world. Everyone had a drink in their hand, yelling, laughing, and having a good time. Some places were fairly passable. Some were packed all the way across the street. The balconies were full of people with beads and the people passing below were begging for them. I didn’t see any offers or requests for flashing. Margo and I both ended up getting a string of beads from a balcony.
We walked past our cross street, so we had to turn back. We were only a block past, and we went back and found Oceana Grille. The wait was about 20 minutes, which we were not about to pass up on the assumption that we could find something else, and something quicker. The wait went quick and in no time we were seated. I ordered “The Taste of New Orleans” which came with Red Beans and Rice, Crawfish Etouffee, and Creole Jambalaya. I wish I could tell you which was what, but I can’t. They were all on the same plate, and though they did not look alike, I don’t know what they were supposed to look like. I could tell what the rice was. When I ordered it, I did not notice the word “crawfish”. I might not have ordered it, but maybe I would have. But, I liked it all. I ate everything.
Margo ordered Cajun Jambalaya Pasta. This was a dish with fettuccine pasta with alligator sausage and shrimp in a Creole Sauce. Margo liked it, too. The alligator sausage was surprisingly good. She even ate some of the shrimp. I ended up eating most of the shrimp and finishing off her part of the meal. With the meal, I decided to try a beer I had not seen before. It was a dark ale called TurboDog. It was listed under Imports, but I had hoped to try a local brew. When we got it, the label said it came from Louisiana. I later heard one local joke about anything above I-10 being Yankee territory, so maybe they consider it an import.
We finished up and spent the next hour or so wandering deeper down Bourbon Street. We did see our first pair of flashed breasts fairly quickly. By about the 3rd pair, I was trying to take pictures of the boobs displayed. I was more miss than hit, because my camera does not instantly take the pictures and some of those flashes were brief. I ended up with a couple of good ones, and plenty of misses. But, we were tired and we called it a night after maybe an hour. I think we were back at the hotel by 8:30 PM. We were in bed by 10 PM. Big time partiers we are, huh?
We took a taxi to our hotel, The Quality Inn and Suites, on O’Keefe, in the Central Business District. The hotel is about a block from Canal Street, which is the divide to the French Quarter, and the ending spot for most of the parades. So we are close to the action, and the noise. Our cabbie was an African man who was quiet most of the way. I really wasn’t attention to radio early on. This was only the 3rd cab trip I have ever taken, and I was enjoying it. Then all of a sudden I noticed the song was “Tequila Makes Her Cloths Fall Off”. I thought that song was both appropriate for the occasion and unusual for the heritage of the driver. Later on, after the driver had broken the ice and asked us where we were from, I commented that I liked his taste in music. He thanked me and said it helped to keep his blood pressure under control. That got a chuckle out of both Margo and I.
We got to the hotel and got checked in with a minimal amount of trouble. The room, which they upgraded for us, was still on the small side. But, the bed turned out to be pretty comfortable and everyone at this hotel is very nice. This is among the top customer service we have ever seen at a hotel. After we got a few things unpacked, we headed downstairs for dinner. We were good and hungry. I wanted to try some New Orleans food, and at the desk they gave us a few choices. We decided on a place called Oceana Grill, about three blocks deep into the French Quarter, at Bourbon and Conti.
This made for the perfect excuse to head down Bourbon Street. I had only a rough idea of what to expect. I expected to be crowded. It was insane. Canal Street, which as we were to find out divides the French Quarter (the Creole side) from the American side, was busy, but almost as soon as we turned the corner onto Bourbon it was like we were in another world. Everyone had a drink in their hand, yelling, laughing, and having a good time. Some places were fairly passable. Some were packed all the way across the street. The balconies were full of people with beads and the people passing below were begging for them. I didn’t see any offers or requests for flashing. Margo and I both ended up getting a string of beads from a balcony.
We walked past our cross street, so we had to turn back. We were only a block past, and we went back and found Oceana Grille. The wait was about 20 minutes, which we were not about to pass up on the assumption that we could find something else, and something quicker. The wait went quick and in no time we were seated. I ordered “The Taste of New Orleans” which came with Red Beans and Rice, Crawfish Etouffee, and Creole Jambalaya. I wish I could tell you which was what, but I can’t. They were all on the same plate, and though they did not look alike, I don’t know what they were supposed to look like. I could tell what the rice was. When I ordered it, I did not notice the word “crawfish”. I might not have ordered it, but maybe I would have. But, I liked it all. I ate everything.
Margo ordered Cajun Jambalaya Pasta. This was a dish with fettuccine pasta with alligator sausage and shrimp in a Creole Sauce. Margo liked it, too. The alligator sausage was surprisingly good. She even ate some of the shrimp. I ended up eating most of the shrimp and finishing off her part of the meal. With the meal, I decided to try a beer I had not seen before. It was a dark ale called TurboDog. It was listed under Imports, but I had hoped to try a local brew. When we got it, the label said it came from Louisiana. I later heard one local joke about anything above I-10 being Yankee territory, so maybe they consider it an import.
We finished up and spent the next hour or so wandering deeper down Bourbon Street. We did see our first pair of flashed breasts fairly quickly. By about the 3rd pair, I was trying to take pictures of the boobs displayed. I was more miss than hit, because my camera does not instantly take the pictures and some of those flashes were brief. I ended up with a couple of good ones, and plenty of misses. But, we were tired and we called it a night after maybe an hour. I think we were back at the hotel by 8:30 PM. We were in bed by 10 PM. Big time partiers we are, huh?
Sunday, March 06, 2011, Day Two
Margo at Cafe du Monde
We were going to be up at 7 AM, but we were both a bit lazy about getting up. So it wasn’t until 7:18 (two nine minute snoozes) until I got up, with Margo right behind me. We got showered and dressed and we were on the road by about 8:15. My plan for the day was to be at Café du Monde to have beignets and coffee, before we were over at Haunted History Tours for our 10 AM Cemetery Tour. I wanted to be leaving the café by 9:30 AM. We ended up leaving about 8:30 and getting to the café about 9:00 AM.
Café du Monde is a New Orleans institution and it was on my must do list. They have a limited menu, but they are known for their beignets, which are like a doughnut, with a LOT of powdered sugar. I expected the place to be reasonable as far of crowds. It was packed, but with a fairly short line. Still it took until about 9:25 AM to get our order. We each got an order of beignets. I decided to try their café au lait (with hot milk), and Margo got a coke. I thought the coffee wasn’t too bad, for coffee. Margo thought it was way strong. I finished it, and we both like the beignets, which came out hot and messy with sugar. When we looked in each of our two bags, the bottom was covered with at least half an inch of powdered sugar. I can only wonder how much they go through.
We finally got on our way a bit after 9:30 AM. I wasn’t too concerned about making it to where I thought the meeting place was (Rev Zombie’s Voodoo Shop, across from Pat O’Brien’s, on St Peter between Royal and Bourbon) but I was a tad concerned that maybe it wouldn’t be there for whatever reason. But, not to worry. It was right where I thought it would be. We would have gotten there about a minute sooner (than 9:35 AM), but we passed a jewelry store and Margo fell in love with a ring. I got her moving again, and by 9:40 AM we were ticketed and ready to go. With a full twenty minutes I let her take me back a half block to see the ring. I had a feeling I was about to spend a lot of money.
I could tell as soon as she showed me the ring, a very original design, that she really wanted it. But, the shop was not open. As we were admiring it, through the window, and wondering how you get in, the owner showed up, on a bike. In a couple of minutes she had the place opened and was showing us what she had, while at the same time getting the shop ready. She had to put out the two small palms and sweep off her porch. Margo asked how much, and it ended up being under $400, plus tax. I was concerned it was going to be at least double that. We completed the purchase by 9:55 and make it back right in time. The ring itself has a large cubic zirconia stone, which Margo usually doesn’t like. But this one was made in Europe, and had a lot of sparkle. The ring had a squarish design and the stone is held in with a band that passes over the top of the stone. Margo asked about the effectiveness of that mounting system. The lady said that because this was designed by an engineer and not a jeweler, she had never lost a stone. The ring was designed by some Polish jeweler, and Margo says his name is engraved into the ring.
Café du Monde is a New Orleans institution and it was on my must do list. They have a limited menu, but they are known for their beignets, which are like a doughnut, with a LOT of powdered sugar. I expected the place to be reasonable as far of crowds. It was packed, but with a fairly short line. Still it took until about 9:25 AM to get our order. We each got an order of beignets. I decided to try their café au lait (with hot milk), and Margo got a coke. I thought the coffee wasn’t too bad, for coffee. Margo thought it was way strong. I finished it, and we both like the beignets, which came out hot and messy with sugar. When we looked in each of our two bags, the bottom was covered with at least half an inch of powdered sugar. I can only wonder how much they go through.
We finally got on our way a bit after 9:30 AM. I wasn’t too concerned about making it to where I thought the meeting place was (Rev Zombie’s Voodoo Shop, across from Pat O’Brien’s, on St Peter between Royal and Bourbon) but I was a tad concerned that maybe it wouldn’t be there for whatever reason. But, not to worry. It was right where I thought it would be. We would have gotten there about a minute sooner (than 9:35 AM), but we passed a jewelry store and Margo fell in love with a ring. I got her moving again, and by 9:40 AM we were ticketed and ready to go. With a full twenty minutes I let her take me back a half block to see the ring. I had a feeling I was about to spend a lot of money.
I could tell as soon as she showed me the ring, a very original design, that she really wanted it. But, the shop was not open. As we were admiring it, through the window, and wondering how you get in, the owner showed up, on a bike. In a couple of minutes she had the place opened and was showing us what she had, while at the same time getting the shop ready. She had to put out the two small palms and sweep off her porch. Margo asked how much, and it ended up being under $400, plus tax. I was concerned it was going to be at least double that. We completed the purchase by 9:55 and make it back right in time. The ring itself has a large cubic zirconia stone, which Margo usually doesn’t like. But this one was made in Europe, and had a lot of sparkle. The ring had a squarish design and the stone is held in with a band that passes over the top of the stone. Margo asked about the effectiveness of that mounting system. The lady said that because this was designed by an engineer and not a jeweler, she had never lost a stone. The ring was designed by some Polish jeweler, and Margo says his name is engraved into the ring.
Continued
Me at Marie Laveau's tomb
Our guide for the tour was named Rene. She was about 60, and it was apparent pretty quickly that she either knew what she was talking about or could fake it really well. As we trekked lakeside (Pause for an educational opportunity: Rene would be the first of three times that we heard how the locals give directions. Because so many of the streets follow the curves of the river, and the Mississippi has one very large bend right there, you could at one point watch the sun rise over the west bank of the river. So the locals give directions as “Riverside” towards the Mississippi, “Lakeside” towards Lake Ponchratrain, “Uptown” which is upriver or “Downtown” which is downriver) Rene would tell us the history of how the cemeteries developed. Early on, they buried them in the levies. But almost every spring when the floods came, body parts would float down the streets. They decided this was a problem. So they built their first real cemetery. It is under the French Quarter now, but most of the bodies were reclaimed and moved to St Louis Cemetery #1.
St Louis Cemetery #1 was our destination. It is named not for the American city, but as all of New Orleans was Catholic at the time (by law) it was named for, actually created for, the St Louis Cathedral, in the French Quarter. They wanted the dead well away from the living, so the cemetery is about half a mile away from the cathedral. But, we weren’t starting from the church, so our walk wasn’t quite so far. We got there in short order and Rene gave us quite the tour of the cemetery. I, as well as most there were there to see Marie Laveau’s tomb. It’s a shame what has been done to it, with all of XXX graphittied upon it. People do it because they have been read or told that is the way to ask Marie to grant a wish. Our guide said that was all crap, but she did have a dog in the fight, because she is a cemetery preservationist. I tend to agree with her. I wouldn’t want my house desecrated as a means of asking for a favor.
St Louis Cemetery #1 was our destination. It is named not for the American city, but as all of New Orleans was Catholic at the time (by law) it was named for, actually created for, the St Louis Cathedral, in the French Quarter. They wanted the dead well away from the living, so the cemetery is about half a mile away from the cathedral. But, we weren’t starting from the church, so our walk wasn’t quite so far. We got there in short order and Rene gave us quite the tour of the cemetery. I, as well as most there were there to see Marie Laveau’s tomb. It’s a shame what has been done to it, with all of XXX graphittied upon it. People do it because they have been read or told that is the way to ask Marie to grant a wish. Our guide said that was all crap, but she did have a dog in the fight, because she is a cemetery preservationist. I tend to agree with her. I wouldn’t want my house desecrated as a means of asking for a favor.
Continued
We finished up the tour and then Margo and I were free to shop and wander the French Quarter for the rest of the day. But our first order of business was to get something to eat. I still wanted some traditional New Orleans food, and Po’Boys for lunch sounded good to me. We came across Court Tavern, on Bourbon Street, which advertised World Famous Po’Boys. A Po’boy is a sub sandwich. In New Orleans you can get them with a variety of seafood, shrimp being at the top of the list. But, Margo and I opted for land fare. I got a Roast Chicken and Margo got BBQ Beef. It comes “dressed” with lettuce and tomato. But, it could have used Mayo or Mustard. It was kind of dry. The french bread was OK. Margo’s BBQ Beef was good, and I ate part of hers
We finished up and proceeded to wander about the French Quarter. Our goal was pick up most of the souvenirs we would be taking back to everyone back home. I had another goal; see half naked women. We actually accomplished both goals. We got shirts and beads, and other things to take back. We saw the gay part of Bourbon St, (between Dumaine and St Phillips) advertised by the men on the balcony with a sign that said “Show me your Dick”. On another balcony was a cute girl wearing a bra, panties, and a strand of beads. She also had a bullhorn, attempting to solicit nudity from the crowd. I got a couple bad shots of her. We visited both Pat O’Brien’s and Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop, as they are both long time French Quarter establishments. We got a shirt at Pat O’Brien’s, but found nothing to our liking at Laffite’s. I did get a nice picture of it, anyway.
We came across another balcony; this one contained a guy, fully clothed, with a bull horn. Surrounding him, were three ladies who could be enticed to show their boobs for the right beads. Mr. Bullhorn was doing his best to drum up bead business for the ladies. We witnessed a couple of flashings. Margo captured on for posterity. I was guilty of premature shutter manipulation and missed the shot. And it was still daylight.
We continued our shopping, picking up more beads and such. Margo had wanted to pick up a set of beads that featured the favorite football team of a co-worker, Lori. She gives her allegiance to the current world champion, Green Bay Packers. Their medallion on a set of bead was impossible to find. I am guessing that particular strand of beads would have caused many a female top to be raised. We checked every single shop selling beads that we came across. We found one strand, in pink, for $14.00. As they were selling regularly for $3.99, which was likely marked up for Mardi Gras, we decided to pass. We never found them, but Margo went on line later and ordered a pair, paying $5 for priority delivery. They got their on Friday, when we got back.
As we shopped, I kept an eye out for the unusual and/or naked. That was not difficult to find, and eventually our bar for unusual moved up. One that did make the cut was another cute female on a balcony. She was dressed in a purple bikini, with white furry boots, and a white wig. She did an admirable job of filling the bikini top. Accessorizing her wardrobe was a green-gold-purple (official Mardi Gras colors) feather boa. She was tossing beads down to those who she deemed worthy. I don’t recall if Margo solicited her, but I was busy with camera.
We finished up and proceeded to wander about the French Quarter. Our goal was pick up most of the souvenirs we would be taking back to everyone back home. I had another goal; see half naked women. We actually accomplished both goals. We got shirts and beads, and other things to take back. We saw the gay part of Bourbon St, (between Dumaine and St Phillips) advertised by the men on the balcony with a sign that said “Show me your Dick”. On another balcony was a cute girl wearing a bra, panties, and a strand of beads. She also had a bullhorn, attempting to solicit nudity from the crowd. I got a couple bad shots of her. We visited both Pat O’Brien’s and Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop, as they are both long time French Quarter establishments. We got a shirt at Pat O’Brien’s, but found nothing to our liking at Laffite’s. I did get a nice picture of it, anyway.
We came across another balcony; this one contained a guy, fully clothed, with a bull horn. Surrounding him, were three ladies who could be enticed to show their boobs for the right beads. Mr. Bullhorn was doing his best to drum up bead business for the ladies. We witnessed a couple of flashings. Margo captured on for posterity. I was guilty of premature shutter manipulation and missed the shot. And it was still daylight.
We continued our shopping, picking up more beads and such. Margo had wanted to pick up a set of beads that featured the favorite football team of a co-worker, Lori. She gives her allegiance to the current world champion, Green Bay Packers. Their medallion on a set of bead was impossible to find. I am guessing that particular strand of beads would have caused many a female top to be raised. We checked every single shop selling beads that we came across. We found one strand, in pink, for $14.00. As they were selling regularly for $3.99, which was likely marked up for Mardi Gras, we decided to pass. We never found them, but Margo went on line later and ordered a pair, paying $5 for priority delivery. They got their on Friday, when we got back.
As we shopped, I kept an eye out for the unusual and/or naked. That was not difficult to find, and eventually our bar for unusual moved up. One that did make the cut was another cute female on a balcony. She was dressed in a purple bikini, with white furry boots, and a white wig. She did an admirable job of filling the bikini top. Accessorizing her wardrobe was a green-gold-purple (official Mardi Gras colors) feather boa. She was tossing beads down to those who she deemed worthy. I don’t recall if Margo solicited her, but I was busy with camera.
Continued
It was getting late in the afternoon and I was getting hungry. Margo was too, so we started looking for a place to eat. Margo didn’t have a preference, and I had forced her to eat local food for the last couple of meals. So, I thought maybe something more traditional was in order. We came across a place on Bourbon St (isn’t amazing how that street kept sucking us (me anyway) back?) called the Clover Grill. Located at Dumaine and Bourbon with a sign proclaim itself the home of “Hamburgers World’s Best”. That sounded too good to pass up. They had a guy outside controlling the amount of people going in. Once inside we could see why. They had very limited seating. They had a counter with 11 stools and then about 6 tables against the window, creating one tiny aisle between the counter and the tables. We squeezed all the way down to the end and found the two empty seats at the counter that must have been the reason we were allowed access.
I already knew I was going to have a hamburger (World’s Best!). Margo ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. We both got fries. As we had seats at the counter we got to see the cook work his magic. I don’t know much about short order cooks, but even a blitzed Mardi Gras reveler could see this guy was good. Order after order would come in, and he moved from grill to flame to toaster to fryer, shouting out orders to his assistant, while he kept an eye on everything. He didn’t seem to waste any movement and just watching him made the wait seem small.
As there were plenty of orders ahead of us, Margo and I made small talk while we watched, and tried to figure out when he was working on our order. We guessed right, with Margo’s grilled cheese being the marker. The food was good. The hamburger might not have been the World’s Best, but I’ll bet it was the best in the French Quarter, and would likely be on the City’s Best list.
After our meal we went back out into the madness. My goal was still to see boobs. I’m a red blooded male and as so many females seemed dead set on baring them, I figured to be a happy guy. Margo was OK with this. She doesn’t care or feel threatened. But, she was still looking for her Green Bay beads, and we did have other people that we were going to buy souvenirs for. So we soon had responsibilities worked out. I would look for situations where girls were about to flash; at which time we both would try to Kodak the moment for the amusement of our people back home. She would keep any eye out for shops that might meet our requirements; while I would offer my opinion and credit card. It seemed to work out pretty well.
We did bow to the pressures of the situation. No, Margo kept her cloths on. (I tried), but it wasn’t terribly long before we each were sipping on a frozen daiquiri. I’m not bit on the foo-foo drinks, but Margo got a strawberry-coconut creation that was reallllly good. It became my drink of choice each time we found ourselves prowling the French Quarter.
Margo didn’t take many pictures, but her camera has a much faster shutter response, so her pics were usually better. Plenty of the pictures that I took turned out bad. Between lost moments due to the time it took the camera to respond, people getting in the way, bad lighting, and my failure to hold the camera steady, it is a wonder any of them came out.
But one that came out rather well came about at a combination bathroom-daiquiri break. We wandered in and Margo went to find the bathrooms. They ended up being port-a-potties, which she was not going to use. But, I found a young lady who was topless. In lieu of a blouse she was painted up, so as to not to appear to be quite so naked. I noticed that she was not shy about having her picture taken, so as soon as Margo was back, I was asking to have my picture taken with her. Margo took the picture, and we left to find a real bathroom. I imagine I had a stupid grin on my face. The alcohol may have had something to do with it.
We spent probably about another hour or so wandering the crowded streets. I got a few fair pictures, and plenty of bad ones. But we were both tired, and by 8 PM we were ready to call it a night.
I already knew I was going to have a hamburger (World’s Best!). Margo ordered a grilled cheese sandwich. We both got fries. As we had seats at the counter we got to see the cook work his magic. I don’t know much about short order cooks, but even a blitzed Mardi Gras reveler could see this guy was good. Order after order would come in, and he moved from grill to flame to toaster to fryer, shouting out orders to his assistant, while he kept an eye on everything. He didn’t seem to waste any movement and just watching him made the wait seem small.
As there were plenty of orders ahead of us, Margo and I made small talk while we watched, and tried to figure out when he was working on our order. We guessed right, with Margo’s grilled cheese being the marker. The food was good. The hamburger might not have been the World’s Best, but I’ll bet it was the best in the French Quarter, and would likely be on the City’s Best list.
After our meal we went back out into the madness. My goal was still to see boobs. I’m a red blooded male and as so many females seemed dead set on baring them, I figured to be a happy guy. Margo was OK with this. She doesn’t care or feel threatened. But, she was still looking for her Green Bay beads, and we did have other people that we were going to buy souvenirs for. So we soon had responsibilities worked out. I would look for situations where girls were about to flash; at which time we both would try to Kodak the moment for the amusement of our people back home. She would keep any eye out for shops that might meet our requirements; while I would offer my opinion and credit card. It seemed to work out pretty well.
We did bow to the pressures of the situation. No, Margo kept her cloths on. (I tried), but it wasn’t terribly long before we each were sipping on a frozen daiquiri. I’m not bit on the foo-foo drinks, but Margo got a strawberry-coconut creation that was reallllly good. It became my drink of choice each time we found ourselves prowling the French Quarter.
Margo didn’t take many pictures, but her camera has a much faster shutter response, so her pics were usually better. Plenty of the pictures that I took turned out bad. Between lost moments due to the time it took the camera to respond, people getting in the way, bad lighting, and my failure to hold the camera steady, it is a wonder any of them came out.
But one that came out rather well came about at a combination bathroom-daiquiri break. We wandered in and Margo went to find the bathrooms. They ended up being port-a-potties, which she was not going to use. But, I found a young lady who was topless. In lieu of a blouse she was painted up, so as to not to appear to be quite so naked. I noticed that she was not shy about having her picture taken, so as soon as Margo was back, I was asking to have my picture taken with her. Margo took the picture, and we left to find a real bathroom. I imagine I had a stupid grin on my face. The alcohol may have had something to do with it.
We spent probably about another hour or so wandering the crowded streets. I got a few fair pictures, and plenty of bad ones. But we were both tired, and by 8 PM we were ready to call it a night.
Monday, March 7, 2011, Day Three
Mother Teresa's statue at St Louis Cemetary #2
We got up at about 7 AM on Monday. We had a day of tours scheduled. Our first one left from deep in the French Quarter at 9 PM. This was to be a tour of the city where we would learn about New Orleans and see the various sights. I had fairly low expectations for the tour. There was no tour guide, just a bus driver. Plus he looked to be a bit elderly, and quiet. Most of the tour guides we have had in the past have been 20-somethings and fairly outgoing. Both Margo and I noticed a sign above the driver that said “Sylvester Cosman: Coachman of the Year”. We both figured our driver had won some sort of Safe Driving Award. At least we would be in good hands, but I was still not expecting to be enthrall, enraptured, or even entertained. I was wrong.
It did not take long before we figured out that our driver earned his award because of his guide ability. He could not only handle the bus in New Orleans traffic, but he kept up a constant running commentary that was both engaging and informative. We learned quite a bit about the city and had a great time. The driver took us all around the area showing us Lake Ponchratrain, and several of the famous cemeteries. We got to stop at St Louis Cemetery #2, and he gave us a bit of information about some of the crypts there. Some of it was a repeat of our cemetery tour yesterday, but the information about social groups having their own, usually large mausoleums was interesting. We didn’t send a lot of time there, as we had plenty to see.
We continued the tour, with Sylvester explaining how the locals gave directions in this town. New Orleans was built on the river, and the early streets followed the large bend in the Mississippi. As a matter of fact that is how the city got one of it’s nicknames; the Crescent City. A consequence of this a road that generally runs east-west would run north south at points, intersecting a general north-south road. How do you tell some one to go north on both roads, without confusion? So directions are Lakeside, Riverside, Uptown and Downtown. Respectively, these mean; towards Lake Pontchartrain, towards the Mississippi River, up river, and down river. It must work, but as directionally challenged as I am, I am glad that we had maps and a GPS.
Sylvester also explained that the locals don’t eat in the French Quarter, as it is too expensive. He gave us a list of a few places the locals eat, and I locked them away in my memory for later. On the way back we traveled down Canal Street, which most of the New Orleans parades traverse on part of their route. The biggest parades were today and tomorrow, but they had not started yet. People had started setting up, and it was quite a sight to see all of the chairs, ladder contraptions, pop up gazebos, blankets, and other things marking territory. I had read that the same people sit in the same spot year after year, and that you risk life and limp by infringing on any of this marked territory, by moving some of it to set yourself up. After seeing all of the marked territory, I was starting to wonder if we would be able to find a good spot tomorrow, when we planned to watch the Zulu parade. After Canal Street we were back in the French Quarter and soon Jackson Square from which we started. We both liked the tour.
It did not take long before we figured out that our driver earned his award because of his guide ability. He could not only handle the bus in New Orleans traffic, but he kept up a constant running commentary that was both engaging and informative. We learned quite a bit about the city and had a great time. The driver took us all around the area showing us Lake Ponchratrain, and several of the famous cemeteries. We got to stop at St Louis Cemetery #2, and he gave us a bit of information about some of the crypts there. Some of it was a repeat of our cemetery tour yesterday, but the information about social groups having their own, usually large mausoleums was interesting. We didn’t send a lot of time there, as we had plenty to see.
We continued the tour, with Sylvester explaining how the locals gave directions in this town. New Orleans was built on the river, and the early streets followed the large bend in the Mississippi. As a matter of fact that is how the city got one of it’s nicknames; the Crescent City. A consequence of this a road that generally runs east-west would run north south at points, intersecting a general north-south road. How do you tell some one to go north on both roads, without confusion? So directions are Lakeside, Riverside, Uptown and Downtown. Respectively, these mean; towards Lake Pontchartrain, towards the Mississippi River, up river, and down river. It must work, but as directionally challenged as I am, I am glad that we had maps and a GPS.
Sylvester also explained that the locals don’t eat in the French Quarter, as it is too expensive. He gave us a list of a few places the locals eat, and I locked them away in my memory for later. On the way back we traveled down Canal Street, which most of the New Orleans parades traverse on part of their route. The biggest parades were today and tomorrow, but they had not started yet. People had started setting up, and it was quite a sight to see all of the chairs, ladder contraptions, pop up gazebos, blankets, and other things marking territory. I had read that the same people sit in the same spot year after year, and that you risk life and limp by infringing on any of this marked territory, by moving some of it to set yourself up. After seeing all of the marked territory, I was starting to wonder if we would be able to find a good spot tomorrow, when we planned to watch the Zulu parade. After Canal Street we were back in the French Quarter and soon Jackson Square from which we started. We both liked the tour.
Continued
Oak Alley Plantation
Our next tour was with the same company, at the same place, in about an hour. So once we were dropped off, we got a quick lunch at the nearby Jackson Brewery Mall. We ate our pizza on the Mississippi waterfront, and people watched at the same time. The people over in this area were basically normal. We finished lunch and it was time for our next tour. This one was out of town. We were going to visit Oak Alley Plantation. I am sure that at some point you have seen a photo or something on TV with two parallel lines of oak trees lined up, making a pathway down to a large white antebellum mansion. This is that place. We were on the bus for a bit over an hour, with Sylvester again. He narrated the whole hour telling us about the river, various other plantations that we passed, and life in southern Louisiana. Again, he was very interesting and seemed to know what he was talking about. Of course he could have been making it up, but we didn’t care.
We reached Vacherie, the small town that Oak Alley is near, and soon the plantation’s signature landscape was in view. It was quite picturesque and worth the drive. Our admission included a tour of the mansion itself, so we queued up for it. No pictures were allowed inside, but we took a few before we were told. The end of the tour featured a few of the oaks from the second floor balcony. That is a view to admire. The oaks, we were told, predate the house. The trees were purposefully planted, but I can’t recall why they were planted. It does seem odd. The tour, house, and trees all lived up to my expectations. The only bad part is that we were only there for a little more than an hour. The tour of the house lasted 45 minutes, so I only had time to snap a few more pictures, and to buy a mint julep to sip on. Then we were back on the bus and heading back to New Orleans.
It turns out a mint julep is made with bourbon. I’m not a whiskey drinker, so I didn’t care for it. Margo, on the other hand, took a liking to it and sipped it dry on our drive back. Sylvester had filled us in on everything on the way up, so he only talked about half the time on the way back. That was plenty, and we relaxed for the hour drive back to The Big Easy..
Traffic was a bear when we got back into town, but as luck would have it; his route took us within two blocks of our hotel. I was about to resign myself for a very long wait, while dealing with the current parade, when Sylvester offered to let people off, instead of enduring the ride all the way back. It was about a 20 minute walk from where he dropped us off to walk back to Grayline tours. I’ll bet it took them at least 30 minutes to drive it. We didn’t have to do either. We walked to our hotel in three minutes. We hit the bathroom, and were back out the door to go explore the French Quarter on our own.
After an hour or so of shopping, in which we bought a voodoo doll for Margo’s mother, we decided we were hungry again. I wanted to try the Italian restaurant, Rodolfo’s that Sylvester had recommended on our city tour. We found it, but the menu did not look appealing. It was heavy on seafood, which neither Margo or I liked. We ended up eating lunch at the Hard Rock Café, where the wait staff got into the Mardi Gras spirit by literally dancing in the aisles to the music playing overhead. I really enjoyed it, and it got us both a festive mood. After dinner we spent another hour or so wandering the French Quarter, mostly Bourbon Street, seeing all of the displays put on by the crowds drinking and procuring beads. It was not boring. Margo and I managed to snap a not-for-primetime picture or two. Mardi Gras is not for the party animal of the mouse variety, which we are. So we were back at the hotel before 10 PM. A little unwinding and we went to bed. Tomorrow we would see a real Mardi Gras parade.
We reached Vacherie, the small town that Oak Alley is near, and soon the plantation’s signature landscape was in view. It was quite picturesque and worth the drive. Our admission included a tour of the mansion itself, so we queued up for it. No pictures were allowed inside, but we took a few before we were told. The end of the tour featured a few of the oaks from the second floor balcony. That is a view to admire. The oaks, we were told, predate the house. The trees were purposefully planted, but I can’t recall why they were planted. It does seem odd. The tour, house, and trees all lived up to my expectations. The only bad part is that we were only there for a little more than an hour. The tour of the house lasted 45 minutes, so I only had time to snap a few more pictures, and to buy a mint julep to sip on. Then we were back on the bus and heading back to New Orleans.
It turns out a mint julep is made with bourbon. I’m not a whiskey drinker, so I didn’t care for it. Margo, on the other hand, took a liking to it and sipped it dry on our drive back. Sylvester had filled us in on everything on the way up, so he only talked about half the time on the way back. That was plenty, and we relaxed for the hour drive back to The Big Easy..
Traffic was a bear when we got back into town, but as luck would have it; his route took us within two blocks of our hotel. I was about to resign myself for a very long wait, while dealing with the current parade, when Sylvester offered to let people off, instead of enduring the ride all the way back. It was about a 20 minute walk from where he dropped us off to walk back to Grayline tours. I’ll bet it took them at least 30 minutes to drive it. We didn’t have to do either. We walked to our hotel in three minutes. We hit the bathroom, and were back out the door to go explore the French Quarter on our own.
After an hour or so of shopping, in which we bought a voodoo doll for Margo’s mother, we decided we were hungry again. I wanted to try the Italian restaurant, Rodolfo’s that Sylvester had recommended on our city tour. We found it, but the menu did not look appealing. It was heavy on seafood, which neither Margo or I liked. We ended up eating lunch at the Hard Rock Café, where the wait staff got into the Mardi Gras spirit by literally dancing in the aisles to the music playing overhead. I really enjoyed it, and it got us both a festive mood. After dinner we spent another hour or so wandering the French Quarter, mostly Bourbon Street, seeing all of the displays put on by the crowds drinking and procuring beads. It was not boring. Margo and I managed to snap a not-for-primetime picture or two. Mardi Gras is not for the party animal of the mouse variety, which we are. So we were back at the hotel before 10 PM. A little unwinding and we went to bed. Tomorrow we would see a real Mardi Gras parade.
Mardi Gras, Tuesday, March 8, 2011, Day Four
at The Zulu Parade
We slept in and after eating breakfast at the hotel, walked the block and a half to Canal St to find a place to watch the Zulu Parade. During Mardi Gras season various organizations, called krewes (crews) sponsor over a dozen parades. The weekend leading up to Mardi Gras and the Monday before have the biggest and best. Zulu is supposed to be one of the top four. I was concerned about finding a spot, as during yesterday’s city tour, our guide had pointed out people already staking out a spot for today’s parades. But, we found one just off of the front row of people. Even though the parade had been going on for well over an hour before we arrived, it still had not reached our spot. We were at the tail end of the route. So we waited for about 40 minutes before it got to us.
The parade itself was very good. Lots of goodies, beads mostly, thrown from the floats. But the Zulu parade is famous for handing out decorated coconuts. We thought that we might have a chance of getting one. It is required that the coconuts be hand delivered, as New Orleans officials don’t want some getting hurt by a thrown one. But, once they started passing them out, our hopes were quickly dashed. The Zulu parade is mostly a black parade. Margo and I were not the only white faces in the crowd, but we were a minority. I watched the floats riders and walker pass out dozens of coconuts, and not one went to a white person. Racism lives.
We didn’t get the large amount of beads that I had heard about. But that was due to our spot. First we were right next to a balcony, and the float throwers like to prove how strong their arms were by throwing to them. By the time they got to us, a lot of them were reloading. Plus the people in the front row could snag a lot of what might have reached us. That was just part of the game, so I wasn’t upset. We got beads, more than Margo wanted to wear, as they get heavy. Towards the middle of the parade a few coconuts were actually thrown. They were plastic ones, so I guess the rules did not apply. One came right to me, and I snagged it. The black 20-something female beside me whined that it was meant for her. It might have been, but it came right to me, and I kept it. I was half expecting trouble from the majority around us, but there was not even a harsh word. Actually a while later a parade rider threw a mass of beads, that did not separate into strands, but turned into a head busting missile, came right at my coconut disappointed neighbor’s turned head. I snagged it with only a tail of bead mussing her do. She looked all around and asked “what happened”. The guy right beside her gestured towards me, and said “He just saved you life”. An overstatement, but it would have hurt. I was not further thanked, but that did not bother me at all.
We stayed until the end, when all of the impressive floats came by. For some reason, which was not explained, comic book superheroes were prevalent as float themes. Margo and I got a few pictures and enjoyed the spectacle. Contrary to what you might think, these parades are for families and flashing for beads is not only frowned upon, it will get you arrested. Public nudity is against the law. The law is overlooked only in the French Quarter. We saw no flashing here, just lots of beads, parade floats, and people having a good time. Open containers were prevalent, a practice which I endorse, even more this noon hour.
The parade itself was very good. Lots of goodies, beads mostly, thrown from the floats. But the Zulu parade is famous for handing out decorated coconuts. We thought that we might have a chance of getting one. It is required that the coconuts be hand delivered, as New Orleans officials don’t want some getting hurt by a thrown one. But, once they started passing them out, our hopes were quickly dashed. The Zulu parade is mostly a black parade. Margo and I were not the only white faces in the crowd, but we were a minority. I watched the floats riders and walker pass out dozens of coconuts, and not one went to a white person. Racism lives.
We didn’t get the large amount of beads that I had heard about. But that was due to our spot. First we were right next to a balcony, and the float throwers like to prove how strong their arms were by throwing to them. By the time they got to us, a lot of them were reloading. Plus the people in the front row could snag a lot of what might have reached us. That was just part of the game, so I wasn’t upset. We got beads, more than Margo wanted to wear, as they get heavy. Towards the middle of the parade a few coconuts were actually thrown. They were plastic ones, so I guess the rules did not apply. One came right to me, and I snagged it. The black 20-something female beside me whined that it was meant for her. It might have been, but it came right to me, and I kept it. I was half expecting trouble from the majority around us, but there was not even a harsh word. Actually a while later a parade rider threw a mass of beads, that did not separate into strands, but turned into a head busting missile, came right at my coconut disappointed neighbor’s turned head. I snagged it with only a tail of bead mussing her do. She looked all around and asked “what happened”. The guy right beside her gestured towards me, and said “He just saved you life”. An overstatement, but it would have hurt. I was not further thanked, but that did not bother me at all.
We stayed until the end, when all of the impressive floats came by. For some reason, which was not explained, comic book superheroes were prevalent as float themes. Margo and I got a few pictures and enjoyed the spectacle. Contrary to what you might think, these parades are for families and flashing for beads is not only frowned upon, it will get you arrested. Public nudity is against the law. The law is overlooked only in the French Quarter. We saw no flashing here, just lots of beads, parade floats, and people having a good time. Open containers were prevalent, a practice which I endorse, even more this noon hour.
Continued
Margo and Papa Smurf, Bourbon Street, Mardi Gras Day
After the Zulu Parade, the Rex (king) Parade was scheduled to be coming shortly. Margo and I decided that spending the morning watching one parade was enough. We went back to the hotel and unloaded all of the spoils that we had acquired. We stopped just long enough to have Margo take a picture with me and my spoils festooned about me. Like I said we got plenty of beads. I got a coconut, and Margo caught a stuffed voodoo doll.
As today was actually Mardi Gras Day, Bourbon St would be even more rowdy and there would be tons more people dressed up in costumes. And a few of them would be wearing little more than body paint. It promised to be a sight to see, and I planned to risk eye stain.
Canal Street, which is a major boulevard between our hotel and French Quarter, had to be crossed. Yesterday we learned that Canal Street was original boundary between the original settlement (French Quarter) and the American section, which was created after the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Streets like Royal, Burgundy, Dauphine, and of course Bourbon would run to Canal Street, and when they picked up their names had changed because they were now in the American section. Yet one more thing to confuse the uneducated tourist.
Anyway, with Canal being blocked off to accommodate the parade we walked north several blocks to get above the parade route and we found a good place to cross. We did notice that once again white faces were few and far between. No one bothered us, but this would not be the place to be when it was dark and uncrowded. Finding a crowd at this point however was as easy as breathing.
We wandered the streets, marveling at some of the costumes, and how little some where wearing. We got a few pictures and stopped others to have our picture taken with them. No one was camera shy. We ate lunch at a place called Fleur di Lies Café. I wanted Red Beans and Rice, and this was the first place we happened on that had it on the menu.
After lunch it was back to wandering the streets and trying to finish out our shopping. We did that all afternoon and into the early evening. We got a few more pictures, which include pictures with Smurfs and Adam and Eve. Fig leaves covered only the bottom accoutrements, and painted on foliage to camouflage the top. We also managed to find the last of our gifts.
We were scheduled to take a Ghost Tour at 6 PM, so we went over to the pre-arranged spot, only to be told that it was cancelled. This year’s Mardi Gras was more exuberant than normal, probably due to it bleeding into Spring Break a little. With that cancelled we walked the block back up to Bourbon St. Margo had had her fill and wanted to go back to the hotel. I was a little tired. I could have soldiered on, and she actually told me to go back, but I had seen plenty. While there were likely still many more strange things to see, it was probably a much better idea to call it night early. We ordered a pizza delivered for dinner. Not very New Orleans, but it hit the spot. This was our last full day in New Orleans, and even though we did not test the limits of either our liver or eyes, we had had a great time and experienced what New Orleans had to offer around Mardi Gras.
As today was actually Mardi Gras Day, Bourbon St would be even more rowdy and there would be tons more people dressed up in costumes. And a few of them would be wearing little more than body paint. It promised to be a sight to see, and I planned to risk eye stain.
Canal Street, which is a major boulevard between our hotel and French Quarter, had to be crossed. Yesterday we learned that Canal Street was original boundary between the original settlement (French Quarter) and the American section, which was created after the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Streets like Royal, Burgundy, Dauphine, and of course Bourbon would run to Canal Street, and when they picked up their names had changed because they were now in the American section. Yet one more thing to confuse the uneducated tourist.
Anyway, with Canal being blocked off to accommodate the parade we walked north several blocks to get above the parade route and we found a good place to cross. We did notice that once again white faces were few and far between. No one bothered us, but this would not be the place to be when it was dark and uncrowded. Finding a crowd at this point however was as easy as breathing.
We wandered the streets, marveling at some of the costumes, and how little some where wearing. We got a few pictures and stopped others to have our picture taken with them. No one was camera shy. We ate lunch at a place called Fleur di Lies Café. I wanted Red Beans and Rice, and this was the first place we happened on that had it on the menu.
After lunch it was back to wandering the streets and trying to finish out our shopping. We did that all afternoon and into the early evening. We got a few more pictures, which include pictures with Smurfs and Adam and Eve. Fig leaves covered only the bottom accoutrements, and painted on foliage to camouflage the top. We also managed to find the last of our gifts.
We were scheduled to take a Ghost Tour at 6 PM, so we went over to the pre-arranged spot, only to be told that it was cancelled. This year’s Mardi Gras was more exuberant than normal, probably due to it bleeding into Spring Break a little. With that cancelled we walked the block back up to Bourbon St. Margo had had her fill and wanted to go back to the hotel. I was a little tired. I could have soldiered on, and she actually told me to go back, but I had seen plenty. While there were likely still many more strange things to see, it was probably a much better idea to call it night early. We ordered a pizza delivered for dinner. Not very New Orleans, but it hit the spot. This was our last full day in New Orleans, and even though we did not test the limits of either our liver or eyes, we had had a great time and experienced what New Orleans had to offer around Mardi Gras.
|
|
Here are the pictures we took in Louisiana. A few of them are "R" rated, So if that offends you, don't look. The story contines below...... |
Wednesday, March 9, 2011, Day Five
Me and a very nice, and pregnant Hooters girl
We checked out and had a taxi take us to our rental car lot, where we would get a car and drive to the gulf coast of Mississippi. I made a boo-boo which could have had terrible results. I neglected to check my travel notebook for our rental car company, and went by memory. Margo and I have traveled all over the country and have used every major and several minor rental car agencies, so I booted his question of “Where to?”, and gave him the wrong company. The rental car places are all off site in New Orleans, so we were not going to the airport. My subconscious had begun to pound on my conscience saying “Hello, You got it wrong, dumbass. You told him the wrong place.” I of course told my subconscious to do something anatomically impossible, but the doubt was raised. Once we were dropped off, and after our taxicab was on his way for his next fare, I pulled out my notebook. I quickly was in the unenviable position of telling Margo we were at the wrong place, and had no wheels. I was running a cost benefit analysis weighing time lost between two shuttle rides, to and from the airport vs. the expense of calling another taxi, and contrasting that with just trying to rent with a the company whose ground we held, when Margo pointed across the street to the rental car logoed sign which held our reservation. We walked across the street and got our car.
I had reserved us a room at the Hard Rock Hotel, on the beach, in Biloxi, Mississippi. Margo and I had never been to Mississippi, so our goal was to cross it off the 50 state list. It was too early in the year for any water related activities, but I was sure as long as the weather held out, it would be pretty, and I was sure the heaters worked in the casinos of town.
We decided to stop for lunch at the Gulfport, Mississippi Hooters. Here we saw our first ever pregnant Hooters girl. Margo and I both thought that this was great. We talked to her and discovered she got pregnant while she was employed there (not on the premises, get your mind out of the gutter) and her bosses had been great about her condition. They let her where less revealing cloths and kept her on her regular duties. I wrote a letter that night to Hooters corporate expressing our approval of that, and told them it goes a long way to helping Hooters image. This girl is going to be a single mother, as the father of the child, took off as soon as heard about the baby. She is going to go to nursing school as soon as things settle down. Margo and I got a few pictures, left her a tip, even though she wasn’t our Hooters girl, and headed east.
I had reserved us a room at the Hard Rock Hotel, on the beach, in Biloxi, Mississippi. Margo and I had never been to Mississippi, so our goal was to cross it off the 50 state list. It was too early in the year for any water related activities, but I was sure as long as the weather held out, it would be pretty, and I was sure the heaters worked in the casinos of town.
We decided to stop for lunch at the Gulfport, Mississippi Hooters. Here we saw our first ever pregnant Hooters girl. Margo and I both thought that this was great. We talked to her and discovered she got pregnant while she was employed there (not on the premises, get your mind out of the gutter) and her bosses had been great about her condition. They let her where less revealing cloths and kept her on her regular duties. I wrote a letter that night to Hooters corporate expressing our approval of that, and told them it goes a long way to helping Hooters image. This girl is going to be a single mother, as the father of the child, took off as soon as heard about the baby. She is going to go to nursing school as soon as things settle down. Margo and I got a few pictures, left her a tip, even though she wasn’t our Hooters girl, and headed east.
Continued
Out Hotel Room. Wow!
It wasn’t terribly long before we pulled into Biloxi and let the GPS guide right to the Hard Rock Hotel. We self parked and went to check in. The lady behind the counter told us that they had overbook the type of room we had reserved, so they were upgrading us to a suite, but it was not ready yet. I thought to myself “Big Deal, We have stayed at a suite before. There is more room, but it’s not so special.” But, what the heck. As the room wasn’t ready, we had them hold our luggage and we went and gambled for an hour or so. We stayed somewhere around even, maybe a few bucks ahead, and I checked back at the front desk. It was still not ready. We wandered, and gambled, and came back when we the estimated completion time to finish our room was done. I had really wondered what was taking so long to get a room ready. Usually the maids got through an entire floor in a couple of hours. When we got to our room and walked inside I quickly realized I why. This room was a big deal. It was huge! It has a living room, two, I repeat two bathrooms. It has a Jacuzzi tub, a walk in shower so wide I could not touch both sides at the same time. It had three shower heads. There was a dressing area and an area with a mirror for putting on make up. My name was even on the telephone. The room had a view of the Gulf of Mexico, and there was glass everywhere. We had a spectacular view, and a small patio to enjoy it. This wasn’t a room; this was an apartment. We didn’t want to leave it.
But we had to. Our plan was not to spend the day and night in a hotel room, no matter how luxurious it was. We went for a walk to see some of the other casinos, and to take pictures of the hotel. Margo had also promised to take a picture of a coworker’s name, written in the sand of the beach. I guess she collects such things. The rest of evening was spent gambling at the Hard Rock. It was the least we could do, with the room they had provided. I had a pretty good day, coming out $75 ahead, instead of losing. Margo had mixed luck, towards the end she hit a hot streak on a slot machine and won a little back. But, this was all on money we had planned to lose, as part of the entertainment experience, so we were doing well. We ate at one of the hotel restaurants and eventually made it back up to the rooms. We grabbed some cappuccinos’ at the in house Starbucks and drank them on the patio; enjoying the tranquility at this quiet time of the year
But we had to. Our plan was not to spend the day and night in a hotel room, no matter how luxurious it was. We went for a walk to see some of the other casinos, and to take pictures of the hotel. Margo had also promised to take a picture of a coworker’s name, written in the sand of the beach. I guess she collects such things. The rest of evening was spent gambling at the Hard Rock. It was the least we could do, with the room they had provided. I had a pretty good day, coming out $75 ahead, instead of losing. Margo had mixed luck, towards the end she hit a hot streak on a slot machine and won a little back. But, this was all on money we had planned to lose, as part of the entertainment experience, so we were doing well. We ate at one of the hotel restaurants and eventually made it back up to the rooms. We grabbed some cappuccinos’ at the in house Starbucks and drank them on the patio; enjoying the tranquility at this quiet time of the year
Thursday, March 10, 2011, Day Six
Margo and I, about to board the Steamship Natchez
Thursday we had to check out of the Hard Rock to go back to New Orleans. We would be taking a Dinner Jazz cruise on a steam powered paddle wheeler at 6:30 PM. But, it was only 1 ½ hours back to NO, so we weren’t in a big hurry. We probably should have been. Margo and I went back to the casino and did a lot of losing. We gave back all of our winnings and most if not all of the money we budgeted to lose. We definitely helped pay for that upgraded room.
As there was another Hooters in Biloxi, we decided to eat a late lunch there. It was here we met Anna. Anna was a cute and confident Asia girl, whose badge said she was in addition to a Hooter Girl, was a Trainer. We figured we were in good hands. As I chatted Anna up a bit, she told that she had made an appearance in the 2011 Hooters calendar. Margo and I were among royalty. Anna was pretty, but not stunning, like the girls who made the top of the calendar. She was not particularly busty, but she did show us her picture. She was not one of the “monthly girls”, but her picture did her proud. We got her autograph, a picture, autographs from some of the other girls, and we were soon on our way.
We got back to New Orleans on schedule. Traffic in the city was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and Margo navigated the tiny streets of the French Quarter well. We got there with time to spare. Enough so that Margo could get a couple of more things from the nearby Jackson Brewery Mall, before we set sail. She had her heart set on a particular charm for her bracelet and a couple of other baubles. Then we were off to the pier.
We had our tickets so we got in line to board. When we got to the front of the line they took our picture using the Steamer Natchez, our ship, as the backdrop. When we got home and took a good look at our pictures, we realized it was the only one of us together. There were two sittings for dinner and Margo and I had the early one, so we were seated right away. The food was good, but ended up a tad disappointed with the cruise. I should have known better, as it was a little cool. We made do.
The entertainment was a jazz band, and there were pretty good. They were called The Dukes of Dixieland, and have been nominated for a Grammy Award. Except for it being too cool, the cruise was interesting. We saw quite a few other vessels pass us, and we got to see the engine room. The engine room was both interesting watching an old steam engine in action, and warm. This made it reasonably popular. While it was never crowded, it was also never empty. The Natchez had a gift shop which we made a stop in. I don’t recall if we bought anything or not. If we stayed true to form, we did. After the cruise we over and bought the picture taken before we embarked, and then walked up Decatur St and used the bathroom at Café de Monde. We would have gotten some of their beignets, but we were stuffed from dinner. We did get a squished penny from a machine.
From there our vacation was pretty much over. We still had to travel back, but I’m not counting that as a vacation. It was 9:30 by now, and our flight was at 6 AM. Margo and I made the decision before we flew in to not get a hotel room for what would be about 5 hours. We would have to be up by 3 AM or so to get ready, drive to the airport, turn in the rental car, and get to the airport. It just seemed like a waste of money, we would be hurried the whole morning, and we would get minimal sleep anyway.
The plan was to turn in the rental car tonight, take the shuttle to the airport and wait there all night. We had thought we would be able to wait at our gate, but by the time we got there, security was shut down for the night. So while we did get to wait in the building, it was by the ticket counter area. It was not comfortable, and is something we will likely not do again. But it was an adventure and it worked out. Once we got on the plane everything went OK, and in a few hours we were home.
It had been quite the trip. I was now 2% closer to achieving my “states” goal, and I have been to New Orleans during Mardi Gras. We still have two more trips planned for the year. We are going to visit Margo’s Aunt Helen in Cody, WY, in July. Then in late August we are going to Kentucky and North Carolina to visit my Aunt Ellen and the Great Smoky Mountains. Should be fun.
As there was another Hooters in Biloxi, we decided to eat a late lunch there. It was here we met Anna. Anna was a cute and confident Asia girl, whose badge said she was in addition to a Hooter Girl, was a Trainer. We figured we were in good hands. As I chatted Anna up a bit, she told that she had made an appearance in the 2011 Hooters calendar. Margo and I were among royalty. Anna was pretty, but not stunning, like the girls who made the top of the calendar. She was not particularly busty, but she did show us her picture. She was not one of the “monthly girls”, but her picture did her proud. We got her autograph, a picture, autographs from some of the other girls, and we were soon on our way.
We got back to New Orleans on schedule. Traffic in the city was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and Margo navigated the tiny streets of the French Quarter well. We got there with time to spare. Enough so that Margo could get a couple of more things from the nearby Jackson Brewery Mall, before we set sail. She had her heart set on a particular charm for her bracelet and a couple of other baubles. Then we were off to the pier.
We had our tickets so we got in line to board. When we got to the front of the line they took our picture using the Steamer Natchez, our ship, as the backdrop. When we got home and took a good look at our pictures, we realized it was the only one of us together. There were two sittings for dinner and Margo and I had the early one, so we were seated right away. The food was good, but ended up a tad disappointed with the cruise. I should have known better, as it was a little cool. We made do.
The entertainment was a jazz band, and there were pretty good. They were called The Dukes of Dixieland, and have been nominated for a Grammy Award. Except for it being too cool, the cruise was interesting. We saw quite a few other vessels pass us, and we got to see the engine room. The engine room was both interesting watching an old steam engine in action, and warm. This made it reasonably popular. While it was never crowded, it was also never empty. The Natchez had a gift shop which we made a stop in. I don’t recall if we bought anything or not. If we stayed true to form, we did. After the cruise we over and bought the picture taken before we embarked, and then walked up Decatur St and used the bathroom at Café de Monde. We would have gotten some of their beignets, but we were stuffed from dinner. We did get a squished penny from a machine.
From there our vacation was pretty much over. We still had to travel back, but I’m not counting that as a vacation. It was 9:30 by now, and our flight was at 6 AM. Margo and I made the decision before we flew in to not get a hotel room for what would be about 5 hours. We would have to be up by 3 AM or so to get ready, drive to the airport, turn in the rental car, and get to the airport. It just seemed like a waste of money, we would be hurried the whole morning, and we would get minimal sleep anyway.
The plan was to turn in the rental car tonight, take the shuttle to the airport and wait there all night. We had thought we would be able to wait at our gate, but by the time we got there, security was shut down for the night. So while we did get to wait in the building, it was by the ticket counter area. It was not comfortable, and is something we will likely not do again. But it was an adventure and it worked out. Once we got on the plane everything went OK, and in a few hours we were home.
It had been quite the trip. I was now 2% closer to achieving my “states” goal, and I have been to New Orleans during Mardi Gras. We still have two more trips planned for the year. We are going to visit Margo’s Aunt Helen in Cody, WY, in July. Then in late August we are going to Kentucky and North Carolina to visit my Aunt Ellen and the Great Smoky Mountains. Should be fun.
|
|
Here are the pictures from Mississippi and of our Riverboat trip
|