Where Y'at? Drinkin' Daiquiris in N'awlins! (Day 79)

I have a bed. I'm in a bed. I'm in a bed with a mattress and sheets... Oh they might be a floral eye sore but they are bed sheets nonetheless! We've been camping at various locations for nine days since Las Vegas and I'm happy as Larry to NOT have to negotiate another blasted tent pole for TWO WHOLE DAYS as we stay in a hotel in New Orleans... Well, hotel is a dubious definition. Its called 'Old Town Inn' and its a random collection of houses, loads of security gates, pot plants and random stair ways. Its got character al right! That's Kermit the resident piano man in the 'hotel' reception.

The drive from Houston was a long one and at each pee break or gas station, we descended more and more in to the hot humidity of the South. It felt just as bad as attempting to breathe with a plastic bag over my head... Anyone done that before? No... OK, so we've been very fortunate with the weather so far. Baring a game or two with the others of sticking Post-It notes on our heads attempting to guess what character someone else had written, I successfully managed to do what I do best and that was to sleep through most of the journey, waking up in time to spot a road that merely resembles the one where Jeremy Clarkson and co attempted to sell their cars to no avail in the Top Gear US Special!

Factor in the usual ka-faffle that it requires to get six girls sorted in a room [I having been relegated to a single bed away from everyone else thanks to my snoring], cleverly I called shotgun for the showers and got ready within the hour to meet up with our beloved trek leader, Kelly. Where as the rest besides, Chris, Ol' Bazza and myself? They failed.

In our compact gather, we ventured out to the French Quarters and indeed it looks - French. The vibe of this place is easy and ready for a good time. As its motto: 

"Laissez les bon temps roullez!"

 

We settled down to sample a plate of Alligator - Taste like chicken! Then stupidly I opted for an oyster dinner - Fried oysters and chips. ARGH!! I can't do any more fried food. Cecilia is seriously turning in to a fatty fat fat. But that meal sure got worked off at Bourbon Cowboy on Bourbon St on the bucking bronco! That was from the force of gripping on with my thighs attempting to hold on and the sheer fear of flashing my undies to the whole bar when I spectacularly fly off! 

And this was all achieved before 2100hrs! Sadly, I was mulled by mosquitoes on the camp ground in Texas last night. Lacking sleep and itching like no tomorrow, I had to call it a night after only one Daiquiris. So currently I'm drugged up to the eye balls with Zytec ready to hit the sack. Gutting. This place weirdly had the same feel of Khao San Road, Bangkok or that of Pub Street, Siem Reap which means only one thing - A massive hang over. Guess I'm not missing much after all!