MTV-approved "alternative" rock with jumpin jazz jive and dirty Southern funk; emo kids with hepcat oldies; sticky cardboard nachos for 12 bucks a pop with the finest and widest range of Cajun and Creole cuisine; gulag-style booze-pens with drink-wherever-you-like; Aussie-flag loincloths with Mardi Gras beads; and here's the kicker - $120 tickets (plus booking fee) with FREE!!
And you have your French Quarter Festival, which runs for 3 days even if we were only able to stay for the first (yet another instance of our lousy timing throughout this trip.)
It's difficult to put a narrative frame around the day and admittedly, after the first few drinks, it's kinda impossible so we'll do this in a couple of sections:
The food: There's a list on the official festival website that should give you an idea of the dizzying array of delectable treats available all day. Much as we would have loved to, we couldn't possibly have sampled every single item on the menu. Doing so would probably have us posting this from the local infirmary instead of the Greyhound bus that we're currently riding (how cool is that?) Which is not to say we didn't give it our best shot...so feast your eyes as you eye our feast that included:
Alligator Sausage Po'boy as it was Gem's mission to try everything that had the word "gator" in its name..
Shrimp n Grits - though we couldn't tell "hominy" there were.
Turtle Soup Au Sherry - we're not sure why the idea of eating turtle upsets people. As they say round here, if folks weren't meant to eat them then God wouldn't have made them so easy to catch.
More gator - this time on a stick.
Oyster & Artichoke Florentine - that's 3 words I've never seen put together and can't understand why I haven't.
Crawfish Pie - now that we know better, this one was actually really good.
Blackened Catfish Sandwich - no actual cat content but nonetheless, it's my new favourite fish.
Soft Shell Crab Burger - which was the only thing remotely resembling a burger that we had in this town.
Of course we had to wash it all down with something. Gem's tipple of choice for the day was the local specialty - the Hurricane, a cocktail specifically designed to get rid of excess rum.
And for me, copious amounts of a local brew called Purple Haze which like the song, had me "actin' funny, but I don't know why..."
"scuse me while I kiss this guy!"
So by the end of the day, we're like:
"Hey you forgot to take a picture before we started eating."
"Youza whazzuh pisher wha?"
I'm pretty sure this was some kinda gumbo...
The music: As local legend has it, about 100 years ago, this town had a baby and named it Jazz. I swear to God, if we ever had a baby and it made sounds as sweet and swinging as theirs does, we'd have no problems taking it with us onto planes.
Throughout the day, across 4 stages and on every street corner, musicians of every jazzbo stripe kept the joint jumping and the crowd swinging to the happiest, most joyful music on this planet.
Although I could probably have done with one less cover of "When The Saints Come Marching In". I get that it's also the theme song for a local sporting team that they're particularly proud of this year but damn, that tune sticks in your head for ages. (bet you can't shake that earworm off now, huh?)
So I did say at the start that it would be kinda hard to wrap the day around a sequential narrative but anyway, here's our Thelma & Louise version:
As the T-shirts in every souvenir store here say, "Laissez les bon temps rouler!" (that's French for "party on, dudes!" or something quite like it.)
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