With all the business taken care of, I get to spend a couple of hours of a Thursday evening in New Orleans and find out what all the fuss is about.
I haven’t felt the MIBs presence around me recently, but there are definitely things I have to do here. If it’s not the men in black suits enforcing this, who is? Not sure I want to find out. What I can find out is what these important things are that I have to do. One of them I’m sure will involve seafood (I have heard this from many sources) and the other will definitely involve music (the same sources). With my sad rendition of a local attraction map, I head out into the night!
Very quickly I find Bourbon Street:
This is The French Quarter, which is definitely The Place To Which One Must Go. And if you’re only going to go to one part of The French Quarter, it better be Bourbon Street. It looks like you’re not even allowed to drive on the road, those road blockers are at every intersection. Still, let me try to give you a sense of what walking down Bourbon Street is like:
“You are on Bourbon Street. Something smells good, probably a nearby restaurant. You can hear music. Nearby you is:” (roll 1d4)
- A restaurant. They serve seafood and proclaim that their gumbo is excellent.
- A strip club. Very young girls want to dance for you and they have cheap beer.
- A bar (or is it a club?) with good (and loud) music and many fine cocktails on offer.
- A novelty shop where you can acquire some very interesting lingerie. Among many other things. One would assume. Not much left to the imagination in there.
Seriously, roll that d4 for every 10 steps you take down Bourbon Street. Sometimes they attempt to combine all of these things into a single establishment. Guess what they call that here? Oyster Bar! I’m not a big fan of oysters. And I’m on my own here. And I’m kinda hungry. So I wander around looking for a #1 that really calls to me.
Once inside, I can tell that this is my kind of place:
Sitting down, I find that they (of course) offer Hurricanes and Gumbo. Gumbo is what you have to eat while you’re here, and a Hurricane (fruit juice with Southern Comfort, it’s a lot like Rum Punch so I’m a big fan) is what you have to drink. I stick some Garlic Bread on that order and that’s what I get:
And with that single trip I think I’ve taken care of all my touristy obligations! Woo, go efficient me!
And I also find out who enforces this. Locals. I got stopped by the local “Party Pooper Patrol” because I was 1) Alone and 2) Not Wasted. Apparently they provide strippers and Hurricanes because you need those things in order to “keep the party going” or somesuch.
Ended up being they just wanted me to buy a hat for $20 so that someone less fortunate can have a good meal. I already have a hat. And an American tax receipt for a charitable donation really doesn’t do me any good at all.
At least the local enforcers are cheerful and they don’t have a gun fixation.