My apologies for the hiatus, but I just got back in New York yesterday from my trip to Louisiana. Which was really great, if exhausting. I'm sure a lot of things happened, and I should have a bunch of stories to tell you. But honestly I'm having a lot of trouble remembering anything that happened after 3PM on any given day of the week. I'm not positive why that is, but there's a distinct possibility it's due to the fact that we went to a lot of Mardi Gras events that were sponsered by companies with names like "Southern Comfort" and "Jim Beam" (not to mention those we went to that were sponsered by Fear Factor and Girls Gone Wild).

Before I get into any descriptions of things that went on, I'd like to say a few words about the town of New Orleans. Let there be no confusion on this point: I like it there. The people are very polite, the food is outrageous, and it's not snowing there right now (unlike New York. I had said to Ben before we left that I was really psyched because by the time we got back from Mardi Gras, the weather in NYC would be a lot nicer. When I awoke this morning to the freezing rain and heavy snow, I wrote "It'll be nice when we get back" on a piece of paper, and swallowed it). But New Orleans worries me.

I recognize that I was there during Mardi Gras, which is perhaps the biggest party in America (and in the running for the biggest in the world, though I can think of a couple right off the top of my head that beat it. I've heard rumors that Rio de Janeiro's Carneval starts in late January and runs until early December, taking a break only to exchange gifts of Advil and Tylenol during the Christmas season). As such, my view of the city might be somewhat skewed; but as far as I can tell, alcohol is the fuel on which New Orleans runs, the axis of revolution for the entire jazz-listening, jambalaya-eating, mask wearing municipality. I had heard about, but never really believed, the drive-through daquiri stands. These things actually exist, and the proprietors go so far as to stick a straw in the go-cup as they hand it to the driver. I heard more than one prayer sent heaven-ward to the invention of the Bloody Mary, which allows one to start imbibing guiltlessly before 11AM. The most popular bumper sticker in town says "New Orleans: Proud to Call It Home." This is closely followed by the second place entry "New Orleans: Proud to Crawl Home" (heart-achingly reminiscent of the "Ithaca is Gorges / Ithaca has Orgies bumpers stickers from my days of yore).

The structure of the town itself seems almost designed specifically to allow drinkers to get around without much of a problem. In addition to a fairly efficient bus and rail system (well, at least an existent bus and rail system), the roads themselves were clearly set up for drunk driving. Side streets are predominantly one-way, and the main thouroughfares are boulevards, the wide medians making sure that there is no possible interaction between the left and right sides of the roads.

It's a system to be admired, really, holding no truck with hypocrisy. I envision a group of venerable city planners (who for some reason are dressed as Puritans were on the Mayflower, which I attribute to my imperfect understanding of sartorial trends in American history. Up to and including the present, which explains [if not excuses] the way I dress), sitting at a conference table with the 19th century equivalent of a bunch of young civil engineers. The city masters moving their brandy snifters in slow circles, explaining to the youngsters how this city of theirs is going to work. "Now look here sonny, we spent a fair amount of time taking orders from the French, so we are going to need a couple of centuries of doing something to forget about that. Make sure I don't get hurt when I'm taking my Miss Sally for a ride."

Like I have mentioned, it was Mardi Gras season when we were down there. And I probably have a few things to say about that as well, but it might have to wait. I will mention the problems I've been having adjusting to life back in New York. Did you know that "Mind if I take a picture of you flashing me" isn't an acceptable way to start a conversation with a young lady up here? No matter how many beads you offer. Such a disaster.