Arriving in New orleans we go out for a peanut butter burger in a bar near our gay boutique hotel. We chat with the barmaid and the cook and some guy drinking at the end of the bar from texas. They talk about how dangerous they think the city is. Everyone carries a gun here and they dont mind shooting tourists, lonely planet is talking out of its arse. After having the fear of god and muggers put into us everybody goes to see some of the city. I panic and stay in the hotel and swim in our pool. We eat some dinner on Decatur street then go to 'historic' - meaning shabby - Frenchmen street to see some jazz.
The next day housekeeping bash on our door at about 9, everyone panics and throws bedding around the room before we calmly tell her to bugger off for an hour. Me and Tara decide to go to a nearby (hour drive) outlet mall to get new flip flops and whatnot. On the way we tangle with a demonic silver chrysler that chases us for ten miles when we refuse to be undertaken. Then we see a huge fucking train. Reid chucks out a couple of gems including this brief conversation;
"am I on the wrong side of the road?"
"YES!!!!"
After schopping we do more touristy shit and Reid gets a disappointingly decent haircut near Bourbon street. Then we go out in New Orleans, specifically on Bourbon Street the city's main drag, We see loads of music and pissed people and get hammered on Hand Grenades - New Orleans' most powerful drink. See a girl ride a mechanical bull topless. And go to a strip club. All in a night's work.
We leave without being mugged or shot. But it is still pretty ropey.
Addendum : We just crossed the 10 quid mark which means y'all get an excerpt from a conversation I like to call, 'Mr Reid meets the Locals'
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