Life hurts this morning and it can’t be my fault. Its this city. Being able to walk around while drinking in what amounts to a nightly street party is intoxicating. (see what I did there?) Before you know whats happening you’ve been over-served and had a great time. Last night we went off the beaten track for some authentic New Orleans food. Coop’s Place would make my highly recommended list if such a list existed anywhere but in my head. I like the feeling of a place that has success due to their lack of caring what anyone else thinks. They have a simple local menu that is done really well. I loved the food so much I almost took a picture of the plate after I started but the waiter had already told me to put my toy away (phone) and enjoy the people around me.
Then my group made their way to a bar that moved around in a circle. I had just enough alcohol to not put together the Carousel Bar name with the rotation. The queue for a seat on the ride was ruthless and none of us ever got one but that’s okay. We had a great time in spite of missing the snails pace rotation. So much fun in fact that I woke up with a sore stomach from laughing and a voice that sounds and feels like ground glass and gravel.
That is partially brought to me by my sampling of local cocktails. Something called a Pim’s Cup goes down like sweet water but will donkey punch you after four or five. Some evil concoction called a Sazerac can put you on your ass as well and that doesn’t even touch the Hurricane. I got a tip from an obvious professional drinker that said to only order those from a real bar and not those slurpy machines. The first one I had was giving me a strong booze vapor from two feet away. Each sip seemed like a straight shot of rum.
The people watching here is world class as well. The street performers, the beggars, the carnival barkers trying to suck you in to their establishment, the hookers, the pimps, and the tourists. Amazing. I had to walk around with a permanent fuckyouface to keep most of them at bay but I still enjoyed the experience. I broke a personal rule because I needed to learn the scam.
A dude walks up to you and tells you he likes your shoes in an effort to get you to slow down or stop walking. Then he bets you that he can tell you where you got your shoes. He tries to make you promise that is he guesses correctly you will let him shine your shoes. I was wearing old gym shoes so I knew he didn’t like them and there is nothing to polish so I would not agree. When I started to walk away he said “You got your shoes right her on Bourbon Street New Orleans Louisianan under your feet” and tried to squirt something from an old bottle of hand sanitizer on my feet. I moved away before I had to throw anything away, armed with a new weapon against the grift.
The next three guys who came to me with the scam got the answer before they could finish. The hookers are even better. There was one wearing shorts and tape Xs over her nipples. As guys stopped to take pictures she expected a tip and worked them for “a party.” Another enterprising young lady had a string bikini top expertly painted on her naked torso. Same game except her “boyfriend” was walking right behind her. She might have landed a group engagement as we were walking away. Well done young entrepreneur.