New Orleans

Welcome to New Orleans! Or should I say “be prepared for a hangover!”.  Once again my husband and I embarked on our trip of a life-time with my family in tow. If this is the first blog of mine you’ve read then know that I’m a married, 29 year old travel agent who loves nothing more than travelling with her crazy family.

When we got together and dreamed about our trip to New Orleans, the general consensus was to find good music and enjoy the nightlife. What we got was blaring headaches and an extra 2kg’s around the mid-section thanks to fried chicken, except Cassie who stuck with her usual order of salad.

Let me start at the beginning –

Our first day in New Orleans was mostly spent touring around the outer skirts of the town and arguing over the pronunciation of New Orleans.  Is it New Orleeeens or Nw Orlns?  If you could please comment and give some clarification that would be great.

Tempted by the warmth and the blues coming from inside we drifted into a bar on Bourbon St called “Chris Owens”.  It started innocently enough,  grab a couple of the local drinks and sit down to enjoy the music.

The local drink came in the form of a plastic green alien tumbler that hangs from your neck, perhaps so when you’re pissed you don’t need to worry about dropping your drink? A few aliens later and onto the stage walks Chris Owens herself,  a 60+ burlesque dancer.

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The best thing about Chris is that she got even the most introverted people singing and dancing in their seats.  Even better was that she was able to get the most introverted people OUT of their seats and up dancing and singing on stage. Cue Bill up onstage in an oversized foam cowboy hat and a hobby horse.

For anyone that know’s Bill, they’ll know that there is only one time of year that he may tap his foot along to the music,  and that’s at 11:30 on Christmas night after a bottle of Bourbon.   So from our family,  thank-you Chris Owens for giving us the opportunity to capture the below footage.


It’s at this stage of my story that I want to inform those who don’t know,  my Mum does not drink.  So through all the horse dancing, she was stone cold sober and also the voice of reason that no-one would listen to.

The thing about New Orleans is that you don’t just drink in your little group,  you drink with the thousands of others partying on Bourbon Street.  This means that when your alien runs low,  you can get a top up from any of your new friends including those on the balconies above.

It was easy enough for them to fill up the belly of a plastic shark (why there was a shark there I don’t know) with vodka and drop it to the street below, as long as Cassie wasn’t in charge of the catching there was free alcohol to go round for all.

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Another great thing about those on the balconies above is for a simple flash of the boobies, they throw you down beads.  This is the moment when I admit that I am not proud of my desire for beads and what I was willing to show in order to gain them, but worse yet is that Taloi ended up with so many more than me.  I tried not to take it personally and hey, when in Vegas right?

Stumbling across an authentic diner we looked at the menu and found one of the most fattiest burgers I’ve ever seen,  my heart started hurting just looking at the ingredients.  Naturally I ordered and it’s safe to say that I’ve never truly recovered.  What made it worse was the judgmental stares coming from my salad eating sister across the table.


Overall New Orleans was a great place to start our road trip through the US. Although we didn’t drink again for quite a few days the hangover was a great reminder of how much fun we had. Glad to say I didn’t have a heart attach from my fat burger but I do thing my sister is onto something with this whole salad thing.

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