The freedom to extend my time in certain locales has been a high point on this trip. Spending a little under two months in New York City was an experience of a lifetime, spending over a month with my family and friends in the Pacific Northwest was vital to my soul, however, all of these delays severely changed my driving itinerary. I had made plans to meet up with some friends in New Orleans and had anticipated being there via the open road. I instead flew from Seattle straight to New Orleans, abandoning my car for another week or so.
I was able to lend a hand at a conference for my old company and pick up a few extra dollars which is proving to be quite necessary, it is amazing how quickly one can spend money that took so long to save! After a few days of work my good friend from New York, Emily, flew in to spend the weekend with me. Our days were spent playing tourist, eating, drinking, listening to live street music, eating, drinking, walking around the French Quarter, eating and drinking, taking the street car to the Garden District, eating and drinking, hanging out on Frenchman Street and, you guessed it eating and drinking.
So as you can see from the vacation descriptor above, I severely fell off the “Losing Weight Off the Interstate” wagon. My mouth was stuffed with muffuletta sandwiches from Central Grocery, beignets from Cafe du Monde, Catfish Po Boys from some local joint, countless beers, vodka sodas and one very large sugary daiquiri.
While I didn’t mind my healthy living Ps and Qs I did have an incredible time. At the top of my list was dinner at Commander’s Palace. My Dad told me that he and my Mom had a very special dinner there and that it was her favorite restaurant in New Orleans. He asked that I make a reservation there and allow him to treat us to dinner. No argument there! Emily and I were joined by our friend Dan who is in the throes of culinary school and was in New Orleans for his first time, he couldn’t have asked for a better first meal. We had an amazing dinner which was finished off with a toast to my sweet Mother of Baileys over ice, the only alcoholic drink she would ever consume.
We ended up getting caught in a New Orleans style storm which had us bundled up and slipping on small patches of iced over beer puddles in the French Quarter. The city and the airport shut down and held us hostage for two additional days while they waited for the “storm” to pass.