The Big [sl]Eazy: Part Une
Not so much the case when two twenty-something hotties (Julie and myself) try to take on the French Quarter in New Orleans with no itinerary, no maps, and no knowledge of what this crazy drunken town was all about.
So after working hard for our money all week, we took off to the big NO (with a quick detour through Memphis) a week ago this past Thursday.
THE HOTEL
A looong six hours later, we were finally in N'awlins. We stayed at The Olivier House, a bad a$$ historic inn on Bourbon Street and Toulouse, right smack in the heart of the French Quarter. Apparently it's been graced by the likes of Mel Gibson, Dan Akroyd, some Sex and the City actors, etc. It's low key on the outside, elitist on the inside, so not many people have it found out. They had to bump us from a suite to a cottage and for the "inconvenience" only charged us half the price, which was less than what we were originally going to pay. Nice. I wish I knew how to post pics on this damn thing because I took some killer ones. Bastard. One day I'll learn.
THE VIBE
Once we got settled in, we headed straight for [the] Bourbon to check things out. Still nasty from the aftermath of Mardi Gras, the place was PACKED. People were everywhere, naked and clothed, beads were flying at us from above, and the stench of stale beer, vomit, and bodily fluids, amongst other things, were in the air.
THE MUSIC
Maybe it's just me, but I expected more blues and jazz in the town. Luckily, we stumbled upon a great funk band at the Funky Pirate. So good that we went back to see them twice. Ended up making friends with the Rasta guitar player...even got a picture with him and his head of dreads. Then we found some good tunes at The Blues Club on the real shoddy side of town. Oddly enough, we had to search high and low for a hole in the wall bar that actually played the blues and not Top 40 club mixes.
Later led astray by a few annoying yet informative admirers, we ended up at one of the coolest clubs/rock venues/burlesque bars I have ever been to. One-Eyed Jacks is the name but they're too cool to have a sign. Unfortunately, we missed the show Saturday night, but we did make it in time for the punk rock dance fest. With it's red velvet walls, scantily clad (okay, mostly nude) pics of the ladies, red and black tile floor, rockin' music, horseshoe-shaped bar, and very hot bartender who offered me light after light, I fell in love with this perfectly balanced, classy, yet just a little bit bad place. I will go back.
I'm about to fall asleep on my laptop. The Big [sl]Eazy: Part Deux will post tomorrow night sometime.
So after working hard for our money all week, we took off to the big NO (with a quick detour through Memphis) a week ago this past Thursday.
THE HOTEL
A looong six hours later, we were finally in N'awlins. We stayed at The Olivier House, a bad a$$ historic inn on Bourbon Street and Toulouse, right smack in the heart of the French Quarter. Apparently it's been graced by the likes of Mel Gibson, Dan Akroyd, some Sex and the City actors, etc. It's low key on the outside, elitist on the inside, so not many people have it found out. They had to bump us from a suite to a cottage and for the "inconvenience" only charged us half the price, which was less than what we were originally going to pay. Nice. I wish I knew how to post pics on this damn thing because I took some killer ones. Bastard. One day I'll learn.
THE VIBE
Once we got settled in, we headed straight for [the] Bourbon to check things out. Still nasty from the aftermath of Mardi Gras, the place was PACKED. People were everywhere, naked and clothed, beads were flying at us from above, and the stench of stale beer, vomit, and bodily fluids, amongst other things, were in the air.
THE MUSIC
Maybe it's just me, but I expected more blues and jazz in the town. Luckily, we stumbled upon a great funk band at the Funky Pirate. So good that we went back to see them twice. Ended up making friends with the Rasta guitar player...even got a picture with him and his head of dreads. Then we found some good tunes at The Blues Club on the real shoddy side of town. Oddly enough, we had to search high and low for a hole in the wall bar that actually played the blues and not Top 40 club mixes.
Later led astray by a few annoying yet informative admirers, we ended up at one of the coolest clubs/rock venues/burlesque bars I have ever been to. One-Eyed Jacks is the name but they're too cool to have a sign. Unfortunately, we missed the show Saturday night, but we did make it in time for the punk rock dance fest. With it's red velvet walls, scantily clad (okay, mostly nude) pics of the ladies, red and black tile floor, rockin' music, horseshoe-shaped bar, and very hot bartender who offered me light after light, I fell in love with this perfectly balanced, classy, yet just a little bit bad place. I will go back.
*****
I'm about to fall asleep on my laptop. The Big [sl]Eazy: Part Deux will post tomorrow night sometime.
Posted by Stella @ 9:53 PM
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