#also i revamped it last year and decided not to follow any louies here and have be drag back
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about this all.
SPOILER: This post ends with me not being a Houis, but believing Harry and Louis are together, never having broken up, Louis not being neither a dad nor keen on building himself a closet (aside from maybe when he feels like trying to show Harry he can be Bob the Builder and fully revamp their fantastic closet in one of their homes of love).
I just need to rant/vent a bit, because my mind is a mess and I need to again reaffirm things to myself and also know that I have thought about all potential reasons and outcomes.
Firstly, one of - if not the most important - things I’ve learned in my over 1.5 years in this fandom is to stop being naive. We see what we are meant to see, when we are meant to see things. Louis himself said last week that fans see everything and make connections before anything is confirmed. Thus it didn’t come as a surprise one bit to see that today, he’s linked to Eleanor after that frankly fucking obvious follow farce last night. This all after a few weeks of Louis seemingly found the dad in him, after almost two years of not giving a fuck. I’m not going to really go into how hurtful and horrible his public image is, everything is clearly set out to either 1) Reinforce the horrendous character assassination campaign that’s been on/off for almost two years now or 2) Hype up everything for Babygate to end.
Now optimisim is another thing I decided to get rid off rather soon after tapping into this fandom. I do feel, and especially hope, that all this in-your-face dad! show we have seen is setting up the public sympathy for Louis when Babygate soon ends with him not being a dad.
I personally believe in karma and would thus really bloody hate for any beard to get the honour of suggesting a pat test to Louis, or however they’re planning on setting the final wheels rolling. I would especially hate for that someone to be E. I do absolutely want BG to end a year ago; ideally, E’s new dragging in would result in only this and not continue as a tool for ‘not-Larry’ after BG ends. I don’t know about that though. What I’m sure of is that, as 1D’s team has been very concerned and careful in making sure none of the beards get a scratch to their image when their contracts end, is that a lot of stuff was promised to E. She wouldn’t voluntarily come back from the goodness of her heart to help out a friend, when 1) she has very little goodness and 2) they are not friends.
From what was visible last year, with the Tomlinson-Deakin family’s continuous social media engagement with E, I’m sort of thinking this would’ve been on the making for a while now. It’s not an impromptu Sunday Shenanigan. If, as I still believe, things changed in March - how and why, will never know probably - and D’s contract was until December, I would sway towards believing (as several vague anons seemed to suggest for months) that E would have a role on this after D.
So, hopefully she is brought to give the final push to end BG and nothing more. But I do have to, and have had to throughout being here, also consider that this is all a lot uglier than I’d ever wish.
I wouldn’t be comfortable in rallying about everything I do had I not thought about maybe Larry broke up. Maybe they were never real after all. Maybe Louis does want to closet himself. I don’t think it’s being a weak Larry, I think reassuring yourself and your stance with considering everything possible is smart.
So I did. I thought about Larry never being a thing, and decided that’s bull. I know what I’ve seen. I thought about them having broken up and deemed that as bull as well. I know what I still see. In a way, after the horrendous 2016, I am more sure than ever that these two are probably the most real, beautiful real love I have ever seen.
Then, would Louis closet himself? Not going to lie, there have been moment that I’ve been exhausted and thought that maybe he did. Those moments were very fleeting. If he did, the whole babygate would’ve looked incredibly different. True, I don’t know him but I’m fairly sure in my trust that Louis is an excellently good, if not a perfect, person. He could’ve easily stuck with El or someone else, there is no need to bring in a child. Especially when you go to lengths over again to show how fake it all is. If this were to be believable, it would have been from the start. I don’t know why it started and why it’s been going on so long, but I know it’s not because Louis would want to closet himself in the Love Rat and Douchebag Dad -closet.
I also don’t think any of this can be plainly labeled under ‘Louis’ team is idiots and don’t know how to promo anything without private life matters’. Evidently they are dumb with various things, especially how unorganic they are and how blatantly fake everything is. But this isn’t to promo JHO, the articles aren’t for that. It feels like a build-up for something bigger. They don’t need to bring back a beard to promo one single, especially as they’ve been lagging on that front throughout JHO promo season and also, there’d be a dozen of articles of Louis’ private life to write before even thinking about E. I really don’t think the reason Louis has JGG and the Syco-related goons still as ‘his team’ because they are so excellent at promoting his professional career.
So, as you can see, my head’s a mess and I have no answers. None of this has made me change my opinion about anything, but I am very exhausted with having to constantly see how people I care about are being messed with - and well, that includes me. There’s such a difference between ‘turning’ and taking a break because this has all been very fucking tiring.
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Napoleon In Mexico
The night the flame of France’s first Empire was snuffed by the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo it officially ended the “Napoleonic Era” considered by historians. For the first time since pre-revolutionary France did the Bourbons sleep easy in their comfy beds, did the superior British Empire enjoy their reign as the unchallenged super power of the world. Napoleon watched his empire crumble from the shores of Saint Helena, a British colony in the South Atlantic. A fate worse than death for the French Emperor. Gardening became the main hobby for Bonaparte, passing the time till his inevitable death, somewhat at peace with his current situation. In his time in exile he made peace with the Catholic Church, feeling confident he’d enter God’s heavenly kingdom. His lone wish wasn’t to die on French soil with dignity, but to reunite with his son. Previous attempts at a reunion gone ignored by the occupying British fleet blockading Saint Helena to ensure he wouldn’t escape. The European powers had good reason to be paranoid of Bonaparte escaping. He’d done so after his defeat at the hands of the Russians, exiled to Elba the restored Bourbons wished to have him killed to destroy the threat of him once-and-for-all. But the charismatic Emperor showed himself to the French soldiers, exposing his chest “If there is one of you who would kill his Emperor, here I am” bravely exposing his chest in the type of gusto reminiscent of the demagogues of Ancient Rome. He continued to walk towards the soldiers well within range of their guns. “Soldiers, I am your emperor. Know me! If there is one of you who would kill his Emperor, here I am.” But they didn’t. Overwhelmed with emotion they threw down their rifles and ran towards their legendary leader chanting “Vive l’Empereur!” A man of passion, the flair for the theatrics it was no wonder how Napoleon steamrolled the empty robes on the thrones of decaying Kingdoms. Inspired to join their Emperor the soldiers ripped off their white royalist cockades, reaching out to Bonaparte hoping to touch him. Their eyes filled with tears. Napoleon embraced the hapless officer after he bestow him his sword fearing the worst. To avoid such an a occurrence repeating itself the British took better care of guarding the island. Round-the-clock surveillance made any dream of escape an a illusion. But on one foggy night of November 1, 1815 the time was just right to hatch a last ditch escape. Boarding a boat with his servant Bonaparte left on a flimsy dinghy. Able to use the misty, murky conditions to distance himself from Saint Helena to Sierra Leone. Word got out of his escape the alarm bells sang throughout Europe. Fuming mad King Louis XVIII told his military officers to “Kill the little devil” to mercifully end the saga. Galvanized by the bold gamble his amnesties army many of them formally of Napoleon’s “Grand Armeé” deserted to rejoin their Emperor. Jovial at the sight of him. But when Bonaparte set foot on the transport a wave overtook him. A sudden shift in motivation, perspective given to his life he never before considered. “Where to, my Lord?” The Captain asks. A thousand-yard stare told the crew he did not know. But soon he answered. “To North America.” Grateful for the gesture, he wished to seek refuge in the confines of his ally: the Americans. Bewildered, the Captain complied. “Anything for my Emperor.” Nature was on his side. The South Atlantic Ocean came under siege by an endless storm. Soldiers fell ill, some fell overboard and weren’t able to be saved. The journey North was treacherous. Eventually Napoleon, suffering from a server case of seasickness, ordering an immediate landing on the nearest location. Luckily land was within sight... but it wasn’t New York, D.C or even Virginia. Spanish-held Florida, Seminole territory. Immediately the fifty-seven French soldiers came in contact with the Seminole and Miccosukee tribe, and the Seminole leader Osceola, the French and Bonaparte were brought to him as prisoners. Osceola knew who the well dressed man was. Posters of his pasty white face were pinned all around the U.S territory of which he visited often. He also knew the prize for Bonaparte’s capture was to be pretty hefty. But the Emperor exercised his silver tongue. “You think they will pay you in gold and silver for my body. But they’ll kill you and your kin just to get it back.” Bonaparte didn’t have an ounce of aggression in his tone. Speaking more as a guardian to these people who’ve seen their land taken, their families destroyed by the U.S expansion. Osceola conferred with his fellow tribesmen deciding to let Bonaparte live and not to turn him in if he assisted them in the fight against the American (and maybe the Spanish). Though he entertained the idea of retirement, he agreed to the proposition in a split-second. He was unshackled and given the military role as General as his days in France. Except instead of an experienced fighting force well armed, he inherited untrained men using outdated technology limited to bows and arrows. To add to that the Seminoles fighting force was slightly under 100, the army utilized freed slaves from Georgia and North Carolina amounting to 150. “Pathétique.” For the first time since Tecumseh the Natives took charge. Under the leadership of Bonaparte the Natives and Freedmen, along with some French soldiers ransacked two armories in Atlanta in the dead of night. Stealing 85 rifles, 17 artillery pieces, along the way twelve slaves who ran away from their masters attached themselves to the convo. Napoleon initially wanted to ditch the stowaways but the Natives convinced him it wouldn’t look too good. Luckily the runaways were already a good distance from the plantation. Marching back to “Fort Negro” located in Tallahassee, fortification improved mightily under Bonaparte’s leadership. In a year’s time the Seminoles, interconnected tribes and Freedmen were a vital fighting force strong enough to defend themselves. More than just a band of ragtag soldiers wishing to stay free. The U.S despatched a small band of one-hundred men to attack the fort, with the assistance of the Creeks. Napoleon managed not only to repeal the invaders but to kill their esteemed general, hero of the Battle of New Orleans in the War of 1812 Andrew Jackson. The U.S/Creek tribe carrying his mangled corpse back to the boarder. In a monumental upset after a year of preparing Bonaparte delivered his end of the bargain. He was free to retire, now with the trust of the tribe and Freedmen. But the fire was already reignited. Emperor Bonaparte was back. His sights set for Mexico currently elbow deep in blood in revolution against the Spanish crown. Napoleon saw the aging monarch’s unstableness, the revolutionaries sent envoys to Florida to ask for his assistance. Bonaparte would only agree if the main general Vicente Guerrero agreed to the following conditions: 1. To let his empire absorb free Mexico 2. Full command of the army and navy 3. Assistance in smuggling French soldiers to North America Guerrero agreed. Though he had his reservations. Both him and Osceola. The Seminoles did not want war with anybody but those infringing on their land. Bonaparte strong armed the leadership of the tribe to his wishes, executing a power play and telling them they’d be dead without him. Osceola allowed him to take 1,000 regulars to Mexico. The Freedmen were not so reluctant. The individual leaders of the faction were enamored with Bonaparte. Under the impression he’ll lead an expedition to free more slaves and reunite estranged mothers and fathers with their kids (though he never did). Bonaparte’s new Grand Amreé grew to 65,000 “irregulars” and regulars. Commanding the diverse army of French, Native, Black and poor whites towards Mexico City. Utilizing gorilla warfare that undid Bonaparte in the “Peninsula War” against Spain years earlier. By 1819 the Spanish stranglehold on Mexico and North America loosened, the “Insurgents” overtook the capital, crippling the Spanish Empire, surrendering an unconditional peace. Formally New Spain became part of Napoleon’s new empire ruled by his brother Joseph (previously the King of Spain and Bavaria) installed to the throne by popular demand of the citizens of Mexico. By 1820 Napoleon’s new empire stretched from Florida to Costa Rica. Absorbing the California and Nuevo territories - the United States became furious at Bonaparte’s ambitions to reclaim land originally sold to them in the “Louisiana Purchase.” Aging, and suffering from early stages of stomach cancer, Bonaparte knew his time on this earth was short and wished to have his son by his side before death and to be his successor. An envoy of Mexican-Franco personal sailed to Austria to pick up the heir to the throne. After some reluctance to leave the prestigious land for an area he considered beneath him, word got around of his dad’s declining health and swayed Napoleon II to sail away. Life in the “New Napoleonic Empire” mirrored both the flaws and strengths of the United States. Divided heavily by class the poorest citizens were the Natives and Freedmen, some even subjected to cheap labor (slave labor in some territories where it was legal) Napoleon didn’t govern with the same zeal like his days in France. Too frail to instill the core principles of the “Napoleonic Code,” the laissez-faire governing style of Joseph Bonaparte planted the seed of class warfare eventually undoing the once prominent newly minted empire. Native Americans and American Blacks migrate to Mexico, Joseph did not listen to his brother’s pleas to escort them out. But Napoleon Bonaparte himself focused his efforts on conquering the United States Who after the debacle at Fort Negro revamped their military under the leadership of James Monroe, strengthening the navy and installing Winfield Scott’s “Anaconda Plan” designed to choke out potential trade with allied nations to Bonaparte. Infuriated by this Napoleon declared war on the United States. Though ailing, Bonaparte inspired commanders of the original Grand Armée to desert the crown, Jean-Baptiste and Jean de Dieu Soult were given titles upon their arrivals. The New Grand Armée slaughtered invading U.S forces, William Henry Harrison killed at the Siege attempt of Texas. Louis-Bonaparte (Younger brother of Napoleon) led a discrete war effort to push out the Sioux tribe in North & South Dakota, absorbing those and the Minnesota, Iowa territories by 1824. But the machine of Napoleon suffered a stutter, on Christmas Day 1820 Napoléon II died at the hands of the British navy sinking the Franco-Mexican ship. The elder Bonaparte succumbed to a nervous breakdown upon the news, dying via heart attack at the age of fifty-one. Vicente Guerrero, a adversary to Joesph’s reign implored his people to “act in the spirit of Napoleon” by overthrowing the oppressive yoke of his “drunkard” brother. Louis-Bonaparte continued his advancement north unaware of the Emperor’s death as the First Mexican Empire fell into Civil War that’ll last ten-years. The envoys Joseph tried to sent to recall Louis back to Mexico City mysteriously disappeared and the calls for help from the Seminole tribes fell on deaf ears. Irate at the turn of events Joseph murdered his public standing with the Natives ordering the hostile takeover of the “Napoleonic Confederacy” in formally the Florida territory, overthrowing Osceola, exiling him to the sea, organizing the “Fight or Serve” policy meaning the tribes inside the Napoleonic Empire can either willfully sign-up for military service or be subjected to slavery. Before the Seminoles could reply Joseph wanted to prove he would not hesitate pulling the trigger if they did not comply by massacring seventy-six Natives in Tallahassee, the capital of the Confederacy. This left the door open for Guerrero to appeal to the Seminoles lust for revenge, by 1823 most of the tribes in Napoleonic territories sided with Guerrero’s rebellion. Meanwhile, Jean-Baptiste and Jean de Dieu Soult duel with Winfield Scott in the Southern states of the U.S, attempting to divide and conquer among slave owners wishing to freely transport their slaves among non-slave territories. When Scott proved to have the upper hand in the Atlanta Theatre, the two French commanders burned the state of Georgia to the ground. Despite this, 18,000 Georgians were swayed to join the Franco cause. On March 6, 1826 Jean-Baptiste and Jean de Dieu marched on Mexico City completing the demise of Joseph Bonaparte. Capturing and executing him. Installing a “Democratic” system with two Consuls in the style of the Roman Republic. Economic reforms for the poor cooled the violent flames in the bellies of the poorest citizens. The legislation was labeled “Reforma Económica” by its citizens. This did not deter Guerrero, only it emboldened and further endeared him to his fellow Mexicans. As instability ravages North America, the fledgling Spanish Empire seeks to reconquer the land with the help of the United States. While some Southern states were seduced by the idea of secession, Virginia, Kentucky and Atlanta remained in the Union casting their lot to fight against the “Franco-Secessionist” alliance. The Native Americans are run out of Florida, escaping to Costa Rica. President John Quincy Adams, an opponent towards U.S expansion allies the Sioux in a show of “Friendship” between them and the States in their fight against imperialist Franco-Mexican powers. The three-way scramble for Mexico melt its resources, ruin its infrastructure, further destabilizing the poorer classes. Disgusted by the reformation of Mexico since Bonaparte’s demise Louis-Napoleon crowns himself King of Franco-español Gratuito, made up of mostly Spanish royalist to Bonaparte and Freedmen, opening up another wound to gush endless blood in the disastrous war for Mexico. Untold amount of lives have been spent to preserve or fight against the tyrannical rule of empire. Borderlines have been redrawn, U.S expansion West has been successfully halted. Native tribes continue to live on but are engulfed in war between each other, fighting not only the French and Americans, but some managed to get into conflict with Mexico and Royalist Spain. By 1833 President Henry Clay inherits a nation in deep need to end this war destroying their economy, ravaging their citizen population. From over 10,000,000 in 1820, over 2 million of them slaves, fell below 9,000,000. The “War of Spanish Reconquest; North American Theatre” heavily draining the United States treasury, the Spanish are faring no better. As the war wages neither party is gaining the upper-hand. The royal powers of Europe contemplate throwing their lot into the war to reclaim their former colonies.
#France#French Empire#napoleon bonaparte#Mexican War For Independence#Mexico#Native Americans#War of Secession#DWBI#alternate universe#alternate history#Whig Party#Andrew Jackson#Freedom#Henry Clay#Spanish Empire#Viceroy of New Spain
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We arrived in New Orleans on Friday, March 16th as a belated birthday present to my apprentice traveler. While I’d only briefly visited the city years before, it clung to me like the swamp moss that surrounds the Crescent City, the Big Easy, Nawlins.
In the hustle and bustle of the airport, we picked up an unexpected additional fare going in the complete opposite direction from us. The cab driver assured me it would cost no more than the $37 flat rate from the airport, so we settled in for an impromptu sightseeing tour as the other passengers were dropped off. Naturally, once they were dropped off the fare agreement suddenly changed, that is, until he learned I would have none of that with a gentle “Sure, we’ll pay what you charge, but I’ll be contacting the cab company and the airport afterward.” His tune quickly changed.
Once we turned down one of the cross streets of Bourbon Street, my apprentice’s eyes finally lit up. Here was the New Orleans she was excited to see. Revelers wandering the streets with oddly shaped and oversized containers of a red drink, beads around their necks, hooting and hollering at partiers on the balconies for more beads. We checked into Hotel St Helene, just two blocks south of Bourbon Street, changed and headed out for dinner. The walk to supper took us out of the Quarter to the revamped warehouse district with the promise of fresh Louisiana oysters. Seaworthy delivered. We ordered two each of the Lousiana Gulf Coast selections (six in total), and I found a local IPA to try, the Wayward Owl Clean Slate IPA. The main course consisted of the Seaworthy Roll, a take on a crawfish po’boy, for me and a burger for my companion.
We walked the hearty meal off by heading back toward Bourbon Street. There we stopped for two frozen Hurricanes. My travel companion pointed to a fridge behind the counter where little sauce cups with lids held a red liquid and asked: “What are those?” I responded, gleefully, those are jello shots! So, of course, we ordered them. We continued on down Bourbon Street with our hurricanes in our hands and a buzz from the jello shots. Finally, sometime after midnight we headed back to the hotel and crashed hard on a very, very comfortable bed.
Saturday; the day of 20,000 steps
Although we barely got five hours of sleep, we woke up ready to explore the old city. Fueled by the second most famous coffee brand of New Orleans, Community Coffee, we headed east. Jackson Square was just two blocks east of the hotel, and home to St. Louis Cathedral. The square was alive with street performers and vendors peddling voodoo dolls and paintings of the city. We tried to go into the cathedral, but they were just starting a private event, so we agreed to come back. On the south-east side of the square is the world famous Cafe Du Monde, but the line was already well out of the door and down the block, so we trudged on. We were heading in the direction of St Roch Market, a 20-minute walk when we stumbled across the French Market and outdoor bizarre. Tummies growling we decided to get a “snack” before heading on to St Roch. The snack ended up being gumbo for my companion, and a gator burger for me. We then perused about half of the outdoor bizarre before making our way to St Roch Market. I was a little disappointed at how small the market was, but we found a lovely spot in the back of the market, with a bar, to enjoy a couple drinks. The bloody mary I had was exceptionally spicy (in a very delicious way) and garnished with green olives, pickled green beans, and okra. I decided to give okra another try and then was reminded I really do not like it. I don’t mind it in gumbo, but by itself, it has a slimy aftertaste I just can’t get over. My companion enjoyed an iced coffee drink or two, and then we headed on to our next stop.
Aart Accent Tattoos & Piercings “Yeah! It Hurts”
My companion researched this spot for a couple permanent mementos of our trip. What we did not know was the cultural significance of this place. We were informed while waiting for our turn, that we were in the oldest tattoo shop in New Orleans AND the first tattoo shop opened by a black woman. An interesting tidbit from this article says “When Gresham opened her shop, there were a total of five female tattoo artists in the U.S.”
Wow, just wow. So, when I sat down to get my ink, I asked the gentleman “How long have you been working here?” and he responded wryly “oh, only a short time… about 22 years”. I looked at him, there was no way he was old enough to have been here for 22 years. But he says Jacci is his mother, not by blood, but because she took care of him when he needed it most. So, not only was I getting ink in such a historic place, but her son was doing the work. I was blown away. We swapped stories, and I begged him to come to DC because my next piece has to be done in DC (because it’s an homage to my hometown, and it just wouldn’t be right to get it anywhere else), but I want him to do it. I told him he would always have a home in DC, as a kindred spirit. I also asked him, as a local;
“What is one thing you recommend we do?”
His first response was, listen to Jazz, and his second was “Get a Hand Grenade from Tropical Isle, but only get one.”
So, as we walked back to Bourbon Street, freshly inked, we decided first to drop off my camera bag (I’d taken no pictures with my camera, but a lot with my camera phone), and then come back out. Except instead of heading to Tropical Isle on Bourbon, we headed to the waterfront. But first, we had to eat. Our last meal was the “snack” at the French Market, and we had already clocked over 10,000 steps. I picked the Chartreuse House, just on the corner from our hotel, and an old haunt of Tennessee Williams. We ordered an obscene amount of food, including my travel companion’s first muffaletta which was the size of her head (the second half of it made a great breakfast in the morning). After dropping the leftovers off at the hotel, we headed down to the waterfront to walk off the food. We admired the big paddlewheel steamboats with their loud horns and meandered along the waterfront until we got to The Outlet Collection at Riverwalk where we did some old-fashioned shopping. After we were done, we hit a vendor in the food court to get ourselves some Hurricanes to go (when in Rome) and headed back to our hotel. We decided to take a brief rest on some benches in front of the water when somehow I managed to puncture a hole in my styrofoam cup still nearly full of Hurricane. We sat there while I “beer bonged” the cup for a little while, then figured out we could wrap the cup in one of our plastic bags, so I didn’t drip it all over myself while we walked. As we made our way back, we stumbled across a Saint Patrick’s Day parade coming down Decatur street. So, of course, we stopped, danced, cheered, and got ourselves some beads (without any of that flashing you hear so much about.) Once again we fell into bed after midnight and slept soundly for a whole five hours.
The Lord’s Day
I am not a religious person. However, I have respect for the beliefs of others, so as my Catholic traveling companion timidly asked me if I would be okay going to Mass at St Louis Cathedral, I said of course! We arrived about 20 minutes before the 11 am Mass giving me an opportunity to take some pictures without being disrespectful. The service was beautiful, and my companion got a real treat as the homily was given by a retired archbishop. After the ceremony, she spent some time in the gift shop, and I spent that time photographing the cathedral from Jackson Square.
We then made our way down to the waterfront for our own paddlewheel steamboat tour on the Creole Queen. For an extra fee, we added the lunch buffet to the trip, since we were going off a quarter of the muffaletta each. Oooo-e was the meal good. Jumbalya, Gumbo, Rice & Beans. We stuffed ourselves silly while listening to an excellent guide named Wendell tell stories about New Orleans and the Battle of New Orleans. Oh, and the Hurricanes at the bar were delicious. They add a little extra to the top. A thirty-minute ride down the Mississippi takes you to the Chalmette Battlefield, where you get off the boat and learn about the battle from a National Park Ranger. When the horn blows, everyone gets back on the boat to head back to port by the Spanish Plaza.
After the tour, we walked up Canal Street with the intent of visiting Lafayette Cemetery, just like I had years before. I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I was to find out the only way to tour the cemetery these days was with a guide and a fee. Although, I do completely understand. Tourists, and drunk ones at that, don’t have much respect for the dead, and this is the only way to keep the oldest cemetery in New Orleans protected. So, we headed back to the hotel to relax for a couple hours and take a load off our throbbing feet. And… sadly… pack for our departure the next day.
Then it was time for one last jaunt on Bourbon Street. We started at Tropical Isle, to get our Hand Grenades, on the rocks, as I’d had enough of frozen-drink-brain-freeze. They were delicious and potent. When I looked up the ingredients after taking my first sip, I understood why our friend at Aart told us to only have one. Ingredients included gin and grain alcohol. But, not one to go down without a fight, I had two. It was a Sunday night, and Bourbon Street was still full of people in St Paddy’s day green and beads. We found a fun bar, apparently called Famous Door, where we posted up to enjoy a band, and people watch. Sometime during the evening, a woman came in with a digital camera on a “selfie-stick” followed by a guy with a video camera. She pretended to have fun, dancing around and whatnot, and then picked up a random Hand Grenade cup off a table as if it was hers and acted like she was drunk while recording. I’m guessing she’s one of those Instagram influencers, or whatever they call themselves. After about five minutes of this, they left. What a shame to pretend to enjoy life, instead of actually enjoying it. Speaking of enjoying life, the bartender was selling something in a big novelty syringe, so my companion went to find out what it was. It was more jello shots, three in one syringe, so of course, she bought one and we shared it. We then found ourselves at Reverend Zombie’s House of Voodoo, where warning signs told you that if you took pictures inside your soul would be cursed. With trinkets in hand, I noticed above our heads was an original fence from the movie set of Interview with A Vampire, but getting my soul cursed was not worth the picture. Somehow, I was hungry again, so after a couple miscues with closing restaurants, we found a carryout and got too much food for a reasonable price. Once again, well after midnight, we limped back to the hotel, scarfed down what we could of our food, and got another five hours of sleep.
Monday, Sad Day, Fly Back Home Day
Monday we woke up with the intention of finally getting ourselves some Cafe Du Monde and finishing the second half of the French Market Bizarre. Surprisingly (maybe not?) the line for the cafe was again down the block, but this time we found the carryout counter and got two iced Au Lattes and beignets. While perusing the bizarre I saw a booth where a man had set up his books, and a tv playing his video of train hoppers. I was intrigued, so began talking to him about his adventures. Brian Paul Brightdawn traveled with train hoppers and hobos and turned it into a documentary called “The CURE for the CRASH,” and then later a book titled “Book Safe Glacier – How The Rails Became My Rehab.” So of course, I had to pick his brain about publishing, traveling, and anything else he wanted to share. I could have talked to him for hours, but we had a plane to catch. So I picked up the book and the DVD (my traveling companion insisted I put my wallet away, as this purchase was an investment she wanted to make) and we made our way back to the hotel to pick up our luggage.
On our way to the airport, I received a text from Southwest informing me that the first leg of our return trip, from New Orleans to Nashville, had been canceled due to what I would later find out were numerous tornados in Alabama and Tennessee. Understand that my rookie traveler and I had previously shared some hairy travel experiences, and I was starting to believe we might be cursed. But I kept a level head and followed the prompts to select a new itinerary. This one gave us a direct flight back home. Relieved that we’d seen such fortune, but still wary until we were actually on the plane, it was time for bloody marys at the airport bar. I kept checking our new itinerary and got the notice the plane was to be two hours delayed. With an attempt to stay positive, I reminded both of us, that would still get us back home two hours before our original flight plan.
Finally, after a quick nap near our gate, we boarded our plane and blissfully made it back home safely.
With so much left to explore of New Orleans, I’m eager to go back. Crawfish season is starting soon, but after that, it gets disgustingly hot and humid. So I may just have to wait until Fall.
New Orleans – I Miss You Already We arrived in New Orleans on Friday, March 16th as a belated birthday present to my apprentice traveler.
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