Let the good times roll, New Orleans…
Everyone’s a tourist looking for a little fun in New Orleans. It’s not the place to try to blend in, hold back, diet or deny yourself whatever indulgences you desire. And as soon as you figure that out, why fight it? Why not fall into the heat and the history and the carnality of the city and just let the good times roll?
Let the powdered sugar dust your black shirt and coat your lips sticky as you bite into a fresh-hot pillowy beignet. Or two. Or four. Try them at Cafe Beignet and Cafe du Monde. No need to choose one or the other.
Let Bourbon Street beckon you back again. And again. And again. Pulling you like a magnet. Doesn’t really matter where you started, because you’re going to end up there anyway – in a dive bar drinking cheap beer and shooting the shit with strangers for a few hours and likely, at some point, in a dark corner of Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar to at least begin the night’s cap-off with a proper Hurricane.
Let the electric twang of a couple guitar players messing around lure you into Bourbon Heat, and find yourself glued to your seat at the bar, mesmerized as a jam session morphs into a phenomenal duel of musical masters. And since you’re stuck to your barstool anyway, why not suck up a sweet melon liqueur, creme de coco, pineapple and vodka concoction garnished with a candy eyeball while you’re at it?
Let yourself stare. And laugh. And delight in the characters. The cowboy proudly strutting his boots in his magenta fishnet bedecked legs, matching garter and thong. The second-line paraders bellowing and bopping to “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and the drunken crowd whooping and trailing behind. The cranky bartender at Coterie slinging drinks and fresh-shucked oysters with a side of snarkiness that bites her patrons like the good sting of Tabasco (they love it).
Let your mind open as Madame Marie reads your cards in a warm, dim room, heavy with incense and interpretations of an other-world intensity. Let curiosity take you into a voodoo shop or to a seat at a palm reader’s table.
Let yourself nap deliciously on a Saturday afternoon and wake, still too lazy-drunk paralyzed to put pants on and venture back out into society. But answer your travel partner’s knock at the door; and note that he’s got a wicked glint in his eye, because he snuck out while you were sleeping to nab two boxes of greasy, salty Willie’s Chicken Shack fried goodness to sop up the booze from your foggy brains.
Let the breeze wrap you in welcome coolness as you stroll along the roll of the Mississippi Riverfront. And while you hold the hand of joy for the present and future…on that walk also let memories of a past trip to this magical city flood over you with sadness and wash you in remembered love for a dear lost friend.
Because even mourning is a beautiful indulgence in New Orleans.
Laissez les bon temps rouler.
Let loose your taste buds and eat everything and everywhere. The gooey-rich gumbo slow simmered in the flavors of creole tradition. Crusty Po’ Boys loaded with shrimp that pop in every bite. Savory Boudin Balls and mile-high stacked Muffulettas. Pralines. Chicory coffee. And jambalaya.
Polish off a jazz brunch with a warm bread pudding hug at Antione’s while a table-side trio serenades “Satin Doll.” Try the sherry-tanged turtle soup at Commander’s Palace, and then walk it off breathing in the filé wafting from kitchens as your explore the Garden District and plan your next meal.
Let the purples and golds and greens and feathers invade your eyes. The bright colors of local art bringing to life the Crescent City culture. The buskers tap dancing in tennis shoes and beating out the city’s heartbeat on buckets.
Laissez les bon temps rouler. Dance. Sing so loud in the piano bar that your voice scratches the next day. Drink sazeracs and sugary cocktails as you slowly spin on Hotel Monteleone’s Carousel Bar. Catch and adorn yourself with shiny beads hurled down from balconies. Buy a feathery, mysterious mask. Don’t worry about doing things that are too “touristy,” because you are a tourist. Be silly. Have fun. Enjoy life in the Big Easy.
Let the good times roll.
Let yourself…go.
Special thanks to Kasey, Lori and Jennifer for so many great NOLA suggestions and to Dave for buying me Willie’s Chicken Shack, which I secretly wanted to try the whole trip but didn’t mention.
