New Orleans
10:00 - Austin, TX - Mole
Memphis flowed seamlessly into New Orleans, at least for those of us fortunate enough to be able to sleep in the car. Alec also turned 21 (more on that later), allowing him to drive one of the rental cars. We had an excellent lunch at Walker's drive-in, arriving a few hours later at St. Vincent's Guest-house; the hostel where we would be spending three nights, to find an enormous, slightly dilapidated building, which covered an entire city block. Our journey in had taken us through some unmistakeable Katrina damage. Even our hostel had clearly seen better days, but we were all keen to escape the city's stifling humidity. After overcoming a minor problem checking in with the surly manager, we were shown to our well-proportioned, en suite rooms. We quickly smartened ourselves up, later realising that we were best dressed and most handsome young men in the city, in order to celebrate Alec's milestone birthday. At the top of our to-do list was visiting Pat O'Brian's, which Tripp 'The Legend' Onnen had recommended, situated just off Bourbon Street. Their signature cocktail was the Hurricane. To this day we know nothing of the Hurricane's ingredients, suffice it to say that it tasted ferociously strong and was a girlish cerise in colour. Alec later managed get one for free by sweet talking our waiter Earl.
We all left well-fed and, with the exception of designated driver Michael, well 'lubricated' and set off in search of merriment. We were not short of choice; Bourbon Street houses a seemingly never ending line of bars and clubs, catering for every niche and persuasion. Not enjoying the first place to which we dragged Alec, despite Benji's expert 'schmoozing', which got the birthday boy in for free, he insisted that we find somewhere where the employees were significantly more fully clad. Alec had seen a bar earlier, in which most of the clientèle had been dressed in shirts and blazers, and sensibly decided that we should give it a go. Most unfortunately, upon revisiting his suggestion, the group found the place full of lecherous old men and equally unappealing women of a certain age. We took this as a sign and headed back to the hostel.
Travelling had obviously taken its toll by this point. The next day was decidedly less touristy and we all made use of the hostel's algae encrusted pool, before enjoying, for a change, a fairly hedonistic night of food, wine, women and song. This lead us first to the Creole Creamery, specialising in a huge variety of exotic ice-creams, which Michael and Mole had found out about on America's excellent Food channel. Alec's choice for the evening was the Maple Leaf Jazz Club. The group soon found itself in control of the venue's pool table, where Alec and Zihao expertly hustled some friendly locals. Michael and Mole sadly proved to be somewhat less effective in our final game. By this stage, Zihao, who must have had at least two units of alcohol, was suddenly overcome by a wave of exhaustion, nearly sliding off his bar stool on numerous occasions, despite the loud funk music emanating from the live band not more than twenty metres away. We took our leave and went straight to bed.
Sunday was also very leisurely. However, we did manage to pack in seeing Inception at the IMAX cinema, having read rave reviews. This was quickly followed by yet another recommendation, this time from the local pool players from the previous evening's jazz club, in the form of dinner at a burger restaurant called Port of Call. The next morning we packed our bags, checked out of the hostel and set off for Austin, Texas, from where our adventure continues.
