A Day and a Half In the Life Of Me In New Orleans

 
I? Am not 23 anymore. When did that happen? Apparently I can’t walk more than a block or two without my legs getting unbearably sore, much less wear high heels for more than 5 minutes at a time. And while I loved spending time in New Orleans with my sisters last weekend, the activities that lured me there 7 years ago have lost most of their appeal. Coincidentally, some things about me have not changed at all–take for example: patience, and the fact that I HAVE NONE. Especially when it comes to:
 
  • waiting to go get my food.
  • waiting on my food once we’re at a place that I can get my food.
  • waiting on 6 23-year-old girls to get ready for…anything.
  • waiting on drunk people to get out of my way.
  • waiting on…anything.
  • drunk people.
  • drunk, pushy, people.
  • drunk, pushy, guys.

I arrived in New Orleans Saturday morning. My sisters and a fellow bridesmaid picked me up from the airport. We were all very tired and very hungry. We had difficulty navigating through the traffic on streets we weren’t familiar with. Within a few more hours, more bridesmaids joined us. And when I say these girls looked like supermodels, I mean these girls looked like they stepped right out of a Victoria Secret catalogue; my sister, of course, being the most beautiful. Everyone in the bridal party was–still is, I guess–absolutely gorgeous, and sweet, and funny. It was scary the amount of attention these girls attracted, and not by batting eyelashes or dressing like skankss or flashing boobs, either. These girls were all very classy. I was impressed.

(from left: my sister, Jenny; bridesmaid, Brittany; my sister, Katie, the bride; and Amanda, the maid of honor.)

We did some light shopping and sight-seeing before heading back to the hotel and beginning the grueling 8-hour process of getting ready to go out. I love my little sister but the girl has no concept of time or urgency. That said, in all fairness to her, I’m a stickler for promptness and schedules. I’m pretty sure everyone forgot what my real name is and just started calling me "The Nazi" over the course of the trip. And for that, I am ashamed.

Some other random observations:

  • The hotdog man literally knows everything. And even though he’d love to sell 9 hotdogs to 9 hungry girls, he’s kind enough to point you in the direction of a close-by and delicious restaurant.
  • Just give the back-flipping rapper a tip already.
  • Heels–not even sassy snakeskin wedges–are a no-go in New Orleans. First order of business? Comfy flip-flops from Payless.
  • Beignets are disgustingly sweet.
  • You cannot possibly do every awesome thing there is to do in New Orleans in one day–probably not even in one month.
  • I still really want to go on a swamp tour.
  • Gumbo. Jambalya. Crawfish. New Orleans is my favorite city for food.
  • And art. And people who paint themselves gold and collect money in giant buckets.
  • Absinthe is this green drink that makes you pass out and die…or something like that.
  • Barnyardmomma aka birdonthestreet aka Katy is not a 40 year-old overweight man. She is real–real cool!

(Me and Katy.)

The best thing I saw on this trip was a parade–and not just any parade. A bride and a groom, standing up in a horse-drawn carriage, led the way, followed by a marching band, professional backflippers and dancers, and the entire wedding reception, with the cops driving behind bleeping their sirens every so often. Does everyone who gets married in New Orleans get their own parade? If so, I want a re-do.

 
I just realized I have hardly any pictures of the actual bachelorette; well, I do have some, except I hesitate to post them as she is wearing these ridiculous (insert male anatomy) antlers in almost every photo I have of her. Don’t worry. In three days, we’ll be down in sunny Pensacola, Florida, where I am sure to get a few respectable shots. In a few days, little Katie will be married–actually married! Gone are the days of stealing my ID to get into clubs. I still have trouble believing she’s old enough to drive. Sigh. Tear.
 
Oh, and P.S.–my dress was HUGE on me.
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About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

One response to “A Day and a Half In the Life Of Me In New Orleans

  • barnyardmama

    Well, having a huge dress is WAY better than having one that’s too small–been in both situations! Those bachlorette accessories do make posting the pics a little weird, huh? Absinthe is supposed to make you hallucinate. No, you can’t do all the fun things in New Orleans in thirty-six hours–you’ll just have to come and visit again. Great to meet you in person!

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