New Orleans. Ali and I talked about coming down here way back when we were living in Chicago. It’s just one of those places we never seemed to make it to (New York City being the other glaring stand-out). Today we made it, and after a very full day I’ve realized two things: One, we really should have made a better effort to come here before we had kids—the place is made for drinking. And two, it would take quite a while to even scratch the surface of this very cool city.
We started the day off by driving to a nearby Home Depot and leaving the bus parked there while we jumped on a bus into the city. That went off without a hitch, and before long we were wandering the streets towards the French Quarter. It’s French Quarter Fest this weekend, with tons of music and food happening all over the place. We found a grassy spot, ate, drank, bopped our heads, and wrestled the kids for a while before they were ready to move on.
The rest of the day was spent simply strolling around, eating some more, hanging out in Jackson Square, having SnowBalls in the French Market, getting face painted, and getting balloon animals from clowns.
When we were all beat we made the long walk back to the bus stop, watched our bus pull away when we were a block away, and then spent an hour in the sun waiting for the next one which arrived at the height of rush hour. The experience of returning to the bus via public transportation put a serious damper on our plans to return the next day.
I’ve never seen my kids so squeamish as they were when they spotted these crawfish making a run for safety.
Poor Lowe tried to throw his dollar in the box, but missed. Then he scrambled around, picked it up, and missed again. Damn wind. He gave up then and came running back to us upset, to the point he was just fighting back tears. Times like that remind me that he is still just two years old—a baby boy despite how grown up he can seem.