per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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The beginning of our adventure

We made a wise decision, this time- we took the Super Shuttle to the airport, instead of driving. Doing the math, we might have saved a little money if we drove and used the economy lot- but (like ninjaslug and wylddelirium)I know that the economy lot shuttle at Dulles is erratic at best. It was generally a good experience, though it was good that we were ready early, as our driver was there ahead of schedule. Any advantage to this was negated by our last passenger, who insisted on waiting until the end of his pickup window- from his behavior after pickup, I think he was just being a jerk, but who knows. There was one bit of humor while waiting- our driver had a Christian station on the radio, and at one point said "You're all Christians, right?" All five of us on board at the time said, "No." He seemed rather nonplussed...

Pretty much a matter of routine at the airport, although we did run into skykam in the security line... on his way to San Diego, apparently. Our security area ran out of screening bins while we were there, and it took a while for the TSA people to clue into that and restock- there was nearly a mini riot (well, not really...). Then coffee and pastry and a brief discussion of how the midfield terminal shuttlebuses have obvious secondary sexual characteristics. Then it was time to board.

There was an immediate and obvious problem- monsteralice's seat cushion was wet. She said "Not. Happy.", marched up front, and swiftly got seated elsewhere. They claimed it was only water, but monsteralice muttered darkly, "There was a five-year-old sitting there on the last flight...". That little incident aside, AirTran seems to do a decent job of running an airline. No frills, but little to complain about, either. We lucked out in Atlanta- our departure gate was just across the concourse from our arrival gate, so no problems. Other than being harassed by a truly obnoxious AirTran credit card salesman, nothing else to mar our stay in the airport... except that it was a nearly three-hour layover. Oh, well. During lunch, monsteralice opined that buggery was acceptable as a luncheon meat as long as someone else prepares it.

Made it to NOLA with no incidents, although the plane set down with a "wake up!" sort of thump. Caught a cab to the hotel- our driver had a strong Germanic accent and drove like he was on the autobahn, too. Consequently, we got to the hotel in jig time. The Canal Street Hotel was a bit... special. It was under renovation, but in general seemed like a shabby and run-down beach hotel. Our room (shared with mohnkern and ravenrose, was OK... but the one next door looked bombed out. I suppose it might have been under renovation, but it looked more like something in a war zone. Charming, but our room was clean and cheap. We all agreed that it would make the staterooms on the cruise seem all the better...

Being on Canal Street, we could catch the streetcar down to the French Quarter, so we linked up with ambug666 and proceeded to do so. We strolled up the entertaining sleaze that is Bourbon Street, dodging nightclub touts and (in one case) people spitting from an upper balcony. We made a brief stop at Rev. Zombie's, a touristy "voodoo" store which actually had some very cool t-shirts depicting various lwa- I bought the Papa Legba one. The card reader at the store saw ambug666's "Atlantis" shirt and felt moved to tell him that the Choctaw came from Atlantis. After that, we ended up at Johnny White's Pub and Grill, which is kind of a tradition with us- good food and drinks at decent prices, and an excellent balcony location to watch the neverending entertainment down on Bourbon Street.

There was quite a lot of partying going on down there, too- there was a big gay street party further up the street, and a bunch of generalized happy drunk people. There was also an Abomination of Desolation- a giant anthropomorphized Hand Grenade dancing around and hawking the eponymous drink. Truly a fearful specter... and it ended up giving birth to a half-naked cabana boy in some kind of bizarre metamorphosis. Weird.

We rendezvoused with Kim, our way-cool travel agent and general instigator, on the balcony. She had her friend/partner-in-crime Lori with her, along with Liz and Jan, two of the other LARPers on the cruise. After a while, we went back down to the street, gave a sidewalk vendor's dog some pettins, and ambled down towards the river. We got separated from Kim and her posse at some point, but we'd already touched base about plans for the morrow, so we were OK. We ended up at Café du Monde- no one had room for beignets, but it was wonderful to have a cup of café au lait and do some more people-watching. Then we strolled down Decatur to Canal Street and made our way back to the hotel... still fairly early in the evening, but we had a big day ahead of us.

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No beignets?!?!?!?!?


We had already had "One Block From Jesus" Chocolate cake. No room for beignets.

Never fear, we had them four times on the trip...

Edited at 2008-11-21 11:02 pm (UTC)

... at least cafe au lait was had!

indeed. wouldn't be NOLA without it.

Hand Grenade Cabana Boy

I think that pretty much sums up the surreal status of Burbon street that night.

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