Road Trip (Part 5) - "Hey, You in the Beads"

Fifth Stop: New Orleans. Contact: None. Duration: 2 nights. Purpose: To experience Mardi Gras and introduce Halearious to New Orleans.

We rolled in to New Orleans just in time. An hour later, and the streets we needed to get to our hotel would have been shut down for the parade. This was good luck as we did minimal research about anything related to Mardi Gras. What was there to know? Drinking, boobs, beads, drinking, eating, beads, more boobs. Pretty straight forward, right? Turns out there is more to Mardi Gras then the "Girls Gone Wild" videos would have you believe.

After a long car ride, a shower is a necessity. Halearious gets to go first because as everyone knows, girls take longer to get ready. As she enters the bathroom, she notices there is no complimentary conditioner; I tell her to call down and she if they have some at the front desk. Negative. She decides to hit the shower anyway. When she's done showering, she opens the door on the verge of tears. I tell her that sometimes on road trips she has to rough it. She says that she can't get her comb through her hair and mom has her No More Tangles at home. She says she's going to go to CVS to pick up some conditioner. I know where this is heading. My bags are packed. I'm going on a guilt trip to CVS. Turns out I end up at a convenience store around the corner with a $10 minimum for credit cards. I end up picking up a flask of Wild Turkey 101 and a two-liter of Sprite for old time's sake, and to get over the minimum amount. When I spent a summer in New Orleans 10 years ago, I "learned" how to drink. And my drink of choice was bourbon and Sprite. Good to be back in New Orleans.

We, or should I say, I had a sweet buzz as we left the hotel room - turns out I made them too strong for Halearious so I drank them both. I love bourbon, and put the flask in my pocket, since after all, we're in New Orleans and walking around with liquor is not only legal, but also expected. We're off to Bourbon St. to get us some beads and experience the madness, and we're excited.

Bourbon St. turned out to be less hectic than I expected on the Monday night leading up to Mardi Gras. Plenty of room to move around. Everyone was being civil, and the beads were coming down at a solid pace. Halearious was breaking hearts and using me as an excuse, but still getting an ample amount of beads for the both of us. I wasn't making much of an effort - just enjoying the scene. Soon we stopped in for a "Huge Ass Beer" and continued our march down Bourbon. At one point, we see what appears to be a Girls Gone Wild crew on a balcony filming a pair of girls more than willing to show their boobies for air time - no need for beads at all.

On the recommendation of my friend, Alicia, a veteran of the New Orleans scene, we make our way to the end of Bourbon and over to Frenchmen St - where the locals hang out. Frenchman was a cool area, and had much less of a tourist vibe, but very authentic. Somehow in my 3-month stay in 2000, I never made it to Frenchman.

Halearious and I walk around Frenchman drinking our beers and taking in the scene. As we walk, I get tired of my beer and throw it out. It's time to move onto bourbon, the drink. The flask is out and I'm drinking it. As we make our way around Frenchman, I hear some live Jazz and Halearious and I duck in to check it out. We catch the very end of the set, but we like the vibe and decide to stay for a drink. At the bar, I meet the trumpet player and ask him if there they are done, and he tells me there is a second set and they will be off at 1AM. Good news. I get a Sprite for free and sneak in the bathroom to spice it up with some Wild Turkey. When I disappeared into the bathroom, my drink was clear and bubbly. When I reemerged, my drink was bubbly and brownish - gobble gobble. I've figured out how to save money on the road trip. Bingo.

The band contained a drummer, guitar / male vocal, bass, trumpet, clarinet, and female singer. Together they had a nice relaxing sound and played only jazz. It was nice to hear live jazz and watch some youngin's appreciating it. Halearious compared the girl vocalist to Etta James, and I couldn't argue. The male vocalist was more blah, but not bad.

We stayed for the entire second set, had a few more drinks, Halearious made friends with a Boston dude who she found creepy. I scoped for hot chicks to no avail. The band announced they were passing around a tip jar. We bounced. Drinks still in hand. God, we love New Orleans.

Taxis are nowhere to be found; we're hiking it out. Turns out to be a good walk down Decatur St. because we walk by the French Market and Cafe Du Monde - both of which I wanted to check out and show Halerious, but had forgotten there exact location. Traffic was crazy on Decatur. A parking lot. Glad we didn't catch a cab.

A nice drunken sleep is best when it's short. That has no truth to it, but it seems to be true for me. I wake up all the time way too early when I've had a lot to drink the night before. I'm up at 7AM and our hotel room is pitch dark. No windows Illustrated two hours later when I decide to take a shower and get day two started.

Scene: Complete darkness, faint water running in the background.
Halearious: What are you doing?
ME: About to shower.
Halearious: What time is it?
ME: 9:15 AM
Halearious: Why isn't it light out?
ME: Our room doesn't have any windows.
Halearious: Oh.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

We're back on the streets of Nawlins at 10AM and on our way to Cafe Du Monde for some Beignets and coffee. The line to sit down is ridiculously long so we hit the to-go line and decide to eat breakfast minutes away while over looking the mighty Mississippi as it sneaks by lazily, effortlessly carrying the massive barges and ships to their destinations.

The beignets are just as delicious as I remember and Halearious approves.

We're on to the French Market to do some "window" shopping (no actual windows) and see what's up with the party.

We head over to the French Quarter and quickly realize we are way under-dressed for Mardi Gras. To our surprise, there is an elaborate costume element to Mardi Gras and people are dressed to the "9’s" - some are dressed up elaborately and others are dressed up scantily. Both turn out to be pleasing.

To no one's surprise, there is an amazing amount of New Orleans Saints costumes, and the city is still reveling in their Super Bowl victory. Chants of "Who dat?" are endless and never get old. People are carrying around pigs on sticks signifying that pigs have flown, and there are even white devils to show that hell has frozen over. It's great. They've been partying for a month and there is no end in sight.

Halearious is now on the search for a Bloody Mary and we mosey into a gay bar. After a few moments of some uncomfortable (for me) leering from a gay partygoer, we're out with a Bloddy Mary and head back to Bourbon to check out the scene.

The day is sunny and brisk with a cool breezy that reminds you it's winter. In the sun, it's fabulous. In the shade, it's downright cold.

In contrast to the revelers, there is a conservative element to Mardi Gras. In the midst of all the drinking and bead throwing there are religious conservative people who like to stand with signs and inform you that you are going to hell for having a good time. There was one such fella holding a large 8 to 10 foot cross, and, I kid you not, using it as a stability enabler. He was most likely the drunkest person at Mardi Gras. As we walk by him, I hear him hell "Hey, you in the beads! (Beat) You're going to hell" And then I see Halearious immediately turn around and give the rock & roll and / or hook 'em horns sign and scream "Wooooooooo!" I think he is a little surprised by the deftness of this reaction, but he quickly stables himself and retorts, "That's my girl!" It was pretty awesome. We move on.

Bourbon St. is buzzing. People are out in full force, but the scene is not crazy. Nobody is out of control drunk. Families are walking around. Everyone is enjoying themselves. I, however, feel like an outsider. That is until I get my first strand of beads on - once this happens it's as if I'm overtaken and transformed into an official Mardi Gras-er. It's awesome.

Upon this realization, we decide to go back to the hotel and get our beads from the night before and to drop off our jackets - the temperature is heating up and we don't really need them.

On our way out from the hotel, we swing by the Mexican restaurant that's located in the bottom of the hotel. Two Bloody Mary's please (I've got my beads on. It's time to drink.) The bartender asks, "Are those for hear or to-go?" I let it sink in. I’m in love. She had me at "to-go." We order them to go, but that seems to change as soon as Halearious takes her first sip. It's delicious. No. In fact, after her second sip, it's the best she's ever had. I agree. We stay and finish it, and order a second one. This time for real, we're leaving. It turns out, that by the time we're out of the restaurant, the sun has dropped to a point where the best picture taking light has passed us, and it's getting much colder, so, our plan to walk around needs to be adjusted.

We grab our jackets from the hotel, and decide to go and get a meatball Po-Boy. For anyone who hasn't been to New Orleans, a Po-Boy is a glorified sub, hero, sandwich, whatever you'd like to call it. But since you're in New Orleans, they just know what they're doing when it comes to cuisine and they have an option to get it "dressed." All that really means is that they'll put lettuce, tomato, pickles, and mayo on it. It's hard to fathom putting mayo on a meatball sub for non-locals, but people need to get over this quickly. Since my first meatball Po-boy 10 years ago, I can count the number of times I've ordered a meatball sub not "dressed" on one hand. It has changed how I eat them. Even in the face of weird looks, and multiple questions, I continue to order them like this. (One can also get any Po-Boy like this, and should, including chicken parmesan.)

I had done some quick research on Halearious's iPhone and came across a place called Johnny's Po-Boys. Solid reviews. Meatball Po-Boys mentioned specifically. Within walking distance. Done and done. When we get there, there is a solid line, but nothing that is going to make us leave. Halearious grabs a seat; I get ready to order. The thought of being able to say I'd like to have a meatball Po-Boy with cheese, dressed, and not having to be asked a million question excites me. It's like being someplace where you are welcomed. I order it, and even the guy at the counter seems surprised at how efficiently I do it. After days of tourists, I get the sense of delight that someone is there who has done this before. Maybe I'm projecting. Maybe I'm tuned in. Our ticket stub is #34. This bodes well. (I am founding member of GS34 after all.)

When the subs comes, and the first bit hits the taste buds, I am delighted. It's better than I ever remembered. Halearious agrees. It's the best sandwich either of us has ever had. On the second bite, I hear the guy at the counter announce that they're out of bread. God was on our side. The timing was perfect. I savored every bite. I can still taste it now. It's been etched into my memory. I hope to never forget.

I would like to tell you the rest of what happened, but it got so crazy that I think it's best I don't. Mardi Gras 2010 was spectacular. I don't think it will be the last time I go to Mardi Gras or some sort of Carnival celebration. I have seen the light and it looks good. Definitely needs to be checked out by all.

-Groundswell

PS - Check out Oceana's for some Gumbo and Jumbalaya and shrimp etouffee. Amazing, and recommended to us by a New Orleans native and owner of a fine steak house and seafood place in the Quarter.