I could write about New Orleans for the rest of this blog but.... I've got quite a few more unbelievable dates and male encounters to share in Europe, Arabian clubs, and breweries... Here is the finale of my 3 week Nola venture with two broken toes.Since I've always referred to New Orleans as one of my homes, I strive to avoid the cliches. Only drinking at the postcard bars, getting wasted on Bourbon, and only coming in town for Mardi Gras. Well, I definitely broke one of these this night. Live music to me will always make a city. That was one thing I enjoyed about Charleston, even though some of the genres of music weren't necessarily my cup of tea, add a little whiskey or cocoa tequila, and any cup of tea could be worth sipping. ;) I signed up to volunteer at the voodoo Fest and made a friend there that hooked me up with another connection to music. Not only could I enjoy seeing Bring Me The Horizon, Brandi Carlile, Moon Taxi, and post Malone for free, but she offered me an opportunity to see Five Seconds of Summer and Chainsmokers where the Hornets play. I'm not particularly a fan of the Pelicans but it's across from the Superdome and I've always wanted to see those smoke in the hot for Australians play! I know some people classify them as like a teeny bop bands, but I think they're great! Although I try to dislike Chainsmokers and some of their mixes, some of the words kind of get to me. One song I grew appreciation for when I went to Europe, 2 months after the concert let's take away. "Your heart for take away." Instead of to go since that's a common English and Irish term. My favorite, twisted line is: " Before I love you, I'm going to leave you. Before you're someone I leave behind I'll break your heart so you won't break mine." After Day 3 of Voodoo, I met up with my cousin who is a flight attendant and is based out of Miami! We had no clue either of us were in town! Well, with a little faith, trust, and cajun dust, we ventured to Bourbon St. Beads flying in the air, hand grenades discarded near the gutter, and music filling the streets... this was Bourbon. I'll be damned if I didn't make friends with every doorman on the street and I was DD! The bachelor parties were going strong and we managed to pick up a light-up tambourine on the way of our self-directed tour. No phone numbers, no drama, just dancing in the street in good ole New Orleanssssss Harmless, but hoppy conversation 3 weeks is a long time when you're not working and don't have anyone to hang out with. Most of my cousins were occupied, aunts and uncles had their own schedules and lives, and it's not like I'm going to sit on my phone the whole time I'm in my favorite city. So, I researched some bars with great happy hours that I would enjoy going to and made my way to Uptown New Orleans. I parallel parked on Canal Street (thank you home days for making that skill a reality) and took the streetcar, which made me totally feel like a local, and I made my way to frose'. Okay, I actually had two, but I thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of the wooden bar, the vanity lights oh, the cute manager that kept passing by because it was his job, and the accent of course. I wrote in my journal and created poetry about the atmosphere of this quaint bar. The bartender intervened for casual conversation and then I closed my tab and proceeded to a tight little bar off of Oak Street.
The wine and beer house was not exactly a great kept secret since most of the seats at the bar and on the patio were taken. I perched up next to very attractive brunette bluechew a hockey game on the screen directly in front of him, slanted down for his vision. After ordering a delightful sour beer, I glanced at the screen and noticed it was the Dallas Stars thing. "Dallas huh?" I started. "Yeah, I'm from there," he replied. "No way," I exclaimed! Instantly our conversation ignited. He was from Coppell which is five cities over from where I grew up. The competition was just deep, engaging, and pleasant conversation. He later revealed he had a girlfriend that he met LSU and is living with now here in New Orleans. Thigh is what you think my response would have been, but I wasn't really face. Sure, he was cute, but that didn't belittle the conversation we had. An interesting night where again I close the bars and then made my way back on the streetcar with my Hopalong boot.
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Just because he didn't push the lines of pastel lace,
Doesn't automatically render a space In your jumbled head of drafted plans Shading the night to grays and tans He brushed your curl aside as if it were practice Outlined your firm expression that of an actress Breathing close in a rhythm to hypnotize Temporary this moment, yet to realize Just because the scene has set doesn't mean he is On the syllables of your name or how it sounds with his So don't mistake a mere glint for an enlightening You'll meet a thunder, fit to be his lightening The Nola Series Continues.....So, while living in Pensacola, the city I've hated living 2nd to Greenville, North Carolina, I met a New Orleans native that I dated for half the time I lived there. Gosh, he was the sweetest, so naturally, I had to give him a ring when we went to our home! He was able to finagle things with his job and Florida life and drove the 3 hours down highway 10 to party it up on Frenchman Street! (THE place to drink and hear any genre of music imaginable) Here's the 4-1-1 on the back story of how Mr. Ringo came to be.... and a semi-funny meme, since I couldn't find a Parent Trap meme with Merideth Blake saying, "Here's the 4-1-1." Well, this sweet Mr. Ringo strolled The Marigny with a hobbling girl that moved away. We were in our element! He showed me all his spots when he lived there 2 years prior and found me a club with ratchet hip hop, per request. I got so down to the music that a guy pulled out his phone (in the most discrete manner, flash blinding) and videoed the stanky leg with two broken toes. DON'T STOP ME NOW. I'M HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME. I'M HAVING A BALL. There was this blonde dude-bro that was at least 4 years younger than me watching intently. He looked like a school-yard boy waiting to jump into double dutch. He made his move before Christmas and I was elated while grinding to Ludacris. While feeling the emotions, among other things, I felt eyes on me when Mr. Ringo walked back up. Guilt swept over me. Even though nothing was stated about rekindling anything, he was a complete and utter gentleman and I still felt guilty. I don't know if the guilt would have subsided if a girl would have danced with him (even though he "doesn't dance"). The words of another guy before him rang in my ears while putting my weight on the foot in a right Van shoe. Mr. Publisher wrote words that I didn't believe when he bitterly spat them via internet forum but they rose to the top of my liquored mind (in which he bought some of the drinks...yes, I'm the worst BUT, he was staying with me BUT he came to SEE ME). I lose. So, in this moment in my favorite American city, I believed the words that publisher wrote about me... something to the affect of: she's the reason there's not any good guys left. Now, I do not take responsibility for ALL the good guys converting to scum-between-my-toes but, I do feel for the good guys that I.... well are no longer taken with. I don't do it on purpose... just as I assume guys that were never intrigued long enough with me didn't fall off to spite me. Well, this Mr. Ringo is a gentleman, loving father, and generous person with a colossal heart. It meant more to me than I let on that he came to visit me... I have family that wouldn't spend time with me and I WAS IN THEIR ZIPCODE. I made breakfast and we had some of the most comfortable conversation of my life and then, like a pound of maple bacon, he was gone. I tried to see if we could meet up for Mardi Gras but, to no avail. I truly wish him the best and hope to still frolic our city together. Then again, I also understand if he chooses not too; I've been on that side of the equation as well. Ah, the legendary Rock N Bowl. My mother and her brothers (uncles, obviously... thank you "Genealogy for Dummies") went to "gramma school" with the owner. This actually came in handy when they were cash ONLY for Zydeco night and I was $3 short. I named dropped like a recent grad at an interview and was excused the remaining total. I hobbled my way into the bowling alley across an open space of hardwood floors where Cajuns where jigging in every which direction. The music even smelled of this great city. I am not really sure what that means but gosh, it was a lively scene. Unlike any other dance hall I'd been to.... and I've been to Billy Bob's and Florabama more times than I can count. After securing a cold Budlight in my hand #ballingonabudget, I watched the feet of the colorful enthusiasts spinning and bouncing with jubilee. The washboard was almost hypnotizing. Gosh, that sounds like a Tide commercial. X) A vibrant hippie was stepping to Zydeco alone so I joined her. "Hey! Can you teach me?" "Honey, we can learn together!" After giving it a go with a clomp clomp clomp (still in the boot), a studious, yet big-headed bald guy flashed me a smile and asked me dance. Rolling my eyes inside, I was in no position to turn him down; my desire to learn exceeded my distaste for cocky males. After cheap conversation and obvious judgement of my dancing, the second song ended and he made his way to a thin blonde with evident Zydeco experience. After returning to my new hippie friend, we danced the night away with no remorse for butchering the dance of this great city. There wasn't a day that didn't pass during my dog-sitting days that I didn't find some vibrant thing to do. Since I've bled black and gold since birth, I figured why not try my hand at a saints game. The dome really is home. <3I saw the man of my dreams on the field.... Mr. Reggie Bush, accepting an award... he's a winner but, he's a real player ;)
If you can believe it... I've got one more NOLA post in me. I thought it was the times |
AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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