I am often drawn to places that seem to share my spirit of celebration. New Orleans certainly is a place where the party never stops. John whisked me away over the weekend to join the celebration. I soaked in the revelry as we walked down Bourbon Street. I love to hear the roar of crowds. I often think it is more fun to view the party from the outside. It is all the cheer without the regret. The music permeating the streets was intoxicating enough for me. I adore jazz music.
New Orleans, however, does not seem to share the aforementioned sentiment. She is a city in a constant state of recovery from year long hangover (her trees are laden with beads faded by a year's worth of sun exposure); her remedy of choice seems to be hair of the dog as each night was a little wilder than the last. Or, maybe it was simply that we boldly ventured a little further down Bourbon each night.Although heavy lidded from the late night, New Orleans is a city with just as much to offer her daytime patrons; those whose "poison" isn't necessarily of the alcoholic persuasion. It was quite an experience, and thankfully, I will remember my trip much more clearly than most of the people who travel there.