There aren’t that many women doctors in my hospital, fewer yet in my age range, fewer yet that aren’t married and or have kids, and even fewer who aren’t from these parts. So all three of us have sort of gravitated to one another trying to have a life outside of the hospital. Not too long ago, we decided to go on a trip away from this dismal place. It took some massaging of our respective call schedules but we were finally able to line up an away weekend.
So where did three 30-something-young single women decide to go in the height of summer? Why, New Orleans of course! Good thing we each come from some kind of “tropical” background for it was HOT! But, that’s not me you hear complaining. I loved it. I still carried around a scarf for the indoors though – that A.C.!
I’m not sure what we expected out of New Orleans. None of us had been there. We knew we wanted a fun place where we would drink (for two of us are not big alcohol drinkers), and eat (we all love to eat), but we eliminated Las Vegas because it seemed so far away for just a weekend, we were all pretty much familiar with New York City, so naturally the only other option was New Orleans. Natürlich!
Well, I will preface by saying that we had fun. That is true. We drank and we ate like this was our last request prior to being sent to the electric chair. We didn’t get drunk though, however I’m pretty sure we could have won awards for gluttony! It’s been about a week or so since we got back, and I still don’t think I have consumed an equal amount of calories that I did there in those few days. Even though we walked everywhere, that still didn’t cancel out all the food.
There was music everywhere, and though you wouldn’t catch me listening to jazz or blues on my own, the live music was quite enjoyable and helped to “reset” and “recharge” me.
But the prude in me must comment. What were we thinking? Or maybe I should just speak for myself. What was I thinking? I had always heard Sin City in reference to Las Vegas, and having been there a couple times thought it was okay as much as one can be okay with that sort of thing. But how come no-one warned me about New Orleans, specifically the French Quarter or Bourbon Street? Men up on the balconies asking women to flash their breasts, and the women (tourists, locals, old and young) actually doing so just for some beads?! Forget the smut cards being handed out by peddlers on the Las Vegas Strip. Here you’ve got live girls (that’s what they call themselves) scantily clad jiggling their butt-cheeks or their breasts right on the sidewalk as a way to entice customers into their respective bars or strip-clubs or showrooms or whatever they are. The “girls” were mostly out at night, but if you looked hard enough they were there in the daytime too. And there were kids all around! All around! On Bourbon Street. On Bourbon Street at night with the “live girls” in scantily clad outfits shaking what their mama gave them. I didn’t like that one bit!
The stiffling heat, stench in the air, dirty littered streets only amplified this smut, this sleaze, this debauchery that is Bourbon Street, French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana, USA.
I didn’t know, but now I know. I would hate to see what this place is like during Mardi Gras. But did I mention I had fun?!