Your guess is as good as mine.
Pop-Tarts and granola bars for breakfast with an erratic trickle of a shower to begin the day. It's only our third morning out and I drop the shampoo bottle in the shower and the top shatters. A little creativity with a plastic bag and some rubber bands and it's salvaged.
We hadn't counted on Labor Day traffic, and had an intense, long, hot drive along the Gulf of Mexico through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Eventually couldn't tolerate the heat and exhaust, and rolled out into the shoulder and drove at least thirty miles, dodging debris and passing the thousands of cars in gridlock along Interstate 10.
Seven hours later with a trail of sweat and split lanes behind us, we began our approach into New Orleans. Reminders of Katrina's damage were plentiful, and combined with the mild shock of being back in a city made our arrival somewhat intimidating. Upon arrival at the Banana Courtyard we pulled the bike into their locked and gated parking lot, which we appreciated very much at the time, and brought our bags inside. Mary welcomed us, brought us some beverages and gave us some tips about where we might find some dinner and a good time.
The Pirate's Attic
Carrying our bags upstairs to the Pirate's Attic, we marvel at the artifacts decorating every possible surface, and feel more like we're in a museum than a bed & breakfast. The Pirate's Attic turns out to be quite an attic; a very small room with a Jolly Roger flag on one wall, a stuffed toy alligator on a bookshelf, and a few other decorations. The rooms downstairs looked amazing and elegant, and were $20 more, but it was too late to change our minds, and we were only here because of the appeal of staying an a room called the Pirate's Attic anyhow.
Bourbon Street lives up to some of its hype, with a couple blocks being packed with rainbow flags and shirtless men, while the remainder of the street surrealistically repeats every block. Genuinely thinking we're losing our minds, we have to backtrack a bit to make sure we really did see the same exact pizza place and daiquiri bar on the last block as we're about to see on the next.
Having had enough of the Bourbon Street circus, we head down some other streets, wandering for blocks, looking for a place where we can get some dinner and see some kind of live music. Astonishingly, we can't find a single place that fits the description. Mary at the Banana Courtyard suggested earlier that we go to Snug Harbor, and having found no alternatives, headed over.
Music at the Apple Barrel Bar
There was music and dinner, but the music was one way and dinner was another, though we were assured that a decent menu was available in the music area. Admission was $20 a head, and we skeptically proceeded upstairs, already feeling somewhat ripped off. The performer was lecturing the audience about how they should be pronouncing things in "Nawlins" and there didn't seem to be anyone taking orders for food. Jamie did a fine job of explaining our plight and we took our refunded admission across the street to the Apple Barrel Bar where we had a few drinks and enjoyed the music. Jimmy the bartender gave us some great advice for breakfast the next morning, and we headed back outside hoping to finally find something to eat.
We spotted The Praline Connection on the way back to our room, and feasted on catfish, macaroni & cheese, and fried okra. It was exactly the meal we were hoping for. The restaurant was closing as we cleaned our plates. Unnecessarily, we pick up two forties of High Life on the way back to the Courtyard, go upstairs and try to recall as much as possible of the day.
Hoping for a big breakfast in the morning, a nice day of clear skies, and some camping tomorrow night.
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