NEW ORLEANS, LA :: A long business trip to New Orleans was both very productive and very fun! When I wasn’t conducting demonstrations, engaged in round tables, or spending facetime with existing clients, I was free to soak up The Big Easy. I arrived on St. Patrick’s Day and Bourbon Street was absolutely cram-packed with festive revelers (and revealers!). I hopped from bar to bar, carrying my drinks through the streets (which is legal and encouraged in The French Quarter), catching parts of the second round NCAA tournament game between WSU and Vanderbilt. I finally settled on a place with a surpisingly large contingent of Cougs and watched our heart-breaking elimination in a double-overtime game.
Back on Bourbon Street, it was raining beads. Despite a devasting hurricane, The French Quarter hasn’t changed much since the last time I was there, nearly eight years ago. The only differences I noted were a much larger police presence, and bead collecting seems to have evolved into an equal opportunity franchise for both women and men. An even population from each gender was proudly displaying private parts in exchange for necklaces of shiny plastic. I neither gave nor attempted to receive any beads, but it was fun to watch and cheer them. But that kind of excitement wears thin, and I returned to my hotel, The Monteleone, vowing to only enjoy the sinless attractions of New Orleans for the rest of my stay.
It was actually pretty easy, as Bourbon Street never came close to the level of frenzy it had reached on St. Patrick’s Day. The days were warm and sunny, the nights were slightly humid and sultry, the dining was consistently fantastic, and the overall pace was relaxed and slow. In between and after meetings, I was really enjoying the unique charms of New Orleans. The history, the culture, the attitude, the food, the sights and the sounds. I was beginning to appreciate how a transplanted Southerner might miss his or her home.
But a transplanted Northwesterner misses his home too, especially a home that houses his loving fiancée (and two wonderful cats). I highly recommend a visit to New Orleans if you haven’t been, but after six memorable days, I was very eager to return.
Back on Bourbon Street, it was raining beads. Despite a devasting hurricane, The French Quarter hasn’t changed much since the last time I was there, nearly eight years ago. The only differences I noted were a much larger police presence, and bead collecting seems to have evolved into an equal opportunity franchise for both women and men. An even population from each gender was proudly displaying private parts in exchange for necklaces of shiny plastic. I neither gave nor attempted to receive any beads, but it was fun to watch and cheer them. But that kind of excitement wears thin, and I returned to my hotel, The Monteleone, vowing to only enjoy the sinless attractions of New Orleans for the rest of my stay.
It was actually pretty easy, as Bourbon Street never came close to the level of frenzy it had reached on St. Patrick’s Day. The days were warm and sunny, the nights were slightly humid and sultry, the dining was consistently fantastic, and the overall pace was relaxed and slow. In between and after meetings, I was really enjoying the unique charms of New Orleans. The history, the culture, the attitude, the food, the sights and the sounds. I was beginning to appreciate how a transplanted Southerner might miss his or her home.
But a transplanted Northwesterner misses his home too, especially a home that houses his loving fiancée (and two wonderful cats). I highly recommend a visit to New Orleans if you haven’t been, but after six memorable days, I was very eager to return.
Wonderful pictures, John. It’s a place I always wanted to visit, though maybe I am starting to get too old.
Thanks, but I didn’t notice an age-limit in The French Quarter. =) The age representation was really diverse, actually. Kids and adults, entire families, college students, and many elderly people as well. There are a lot of fancy restaurants, hotels and art galleries for the older crowd.
John