Corny Travels: New Orleans
Garret and I just got back from one of our best trips to New Orleans. For those of you who know, you’ve heard me go on and on about how Nola is one of our favorite cities. And to those who don’t, I’m sure I’ll mention it within 5 minutes of our conversation. Just warning you now. I can’t get enough of it.
For us, it’s more than a weekend getaway to Mardi Gras or a quick trip to a Saints game. It’s become our home away from home, given we’ve traveled there 17 times in 5 years—and that number will only increase now that the Four Seasons is officially taking reservations.
We boujee. (Did I say that right Gen Xers?)
Our last trip to New Orleans was for Mardi Gras 2020. Or as everyone else likes to call it—the beginning of the end. So, the second we saw that Nola was back up and running, we booked a 6 am flight and counted down the days.
Now, not having been since covid, we weren’t sure what to expect. So we decided to keep our expectations as low as our calorie count the week before we left— we needed to ensure that we could stuff as much baked shrimp in our belly’s in a 54-hour time frame. Calories don’t count on vacation, right?
Instead of protests, we saw second lines marching through the streets.
Instead of division, we all came together to sing and dance around a small piano in a bar on Magazine Street.
Instead of rolling out new restrictions, people were rolling hard eights left and right at a craps tables in Harrah’s.
Instead of stirring the pot, the culinary masterminds were busy stirring the roux for the day's gumbo.
Instead of seeing big problems, we saw people partying it up in the Big Easy.
Instead of arguing about votes, we all agreed and voted Brees as one of the greatest of all time.
Instead of cracking jokes about my love of Bud Light (corn allergy here), people cracked a cold one and toasted with me.
Instead of seeing storefronts boarded up, shops on St. Charles welcomed you with open arms.
Instead of searching for face masks to wear around town, people searched for the perfect mask to wear to the masquerade ball.
And instead of arguing about CDC guidelines, we argued over which restaurant has the best po’boy. (Sorry everyone, but Domilisse will win every dang time!)
There were musicians on the corners performing Dr. John’s “Tipitina”.
There were jazz bands bringing down the house at The Spotted Cat.
The only hate being throw around was at the ref who blew the Saints chance to play the 2018 Super Bowl. #robbed
People gave you beads instead of dirty looks.
Uber drivers turned into lifelong friends.
Strangers you met at the bar pulled up a seat, instead of standing 6 feet away from you.
To-go drinks were enjoyed as we walked down Bourbon, instead of our living room.
And there was the most amazing piano man playing his heart out and sharing the gospel at Chophouse New Orleans.
Side note: If you EVER get a chance, do yourself a favor and grab a seat at the bar so you can be front row and center to the revival Michael brings! He will change your life.
For the first time in a long time, you saw the joy on faces because masks weren’t covering them.
Getting out of our little bubble showed me that all of the division and anger that has covered my tv screen and phone for the past year and a half wasn’t totally true.
Please know, I’m not writing this with any ulterior motive. I have no agenda. I’m not trying to sway anyone’s political view or bash one party or the other because truthfully, I appreciate and love how passionate each and every person is for what they believe and choose to stand up for.
I’m writing this because, for the first time since February 2020, I felt like I saw the America we all know and love.
Especially in a place like New Orleans, which has been through more in twenty years than most countries have to endure in their lifetime. A place that faces homelessness, crime, potholes the size of small West Texas towns, sex, drugs, and rock and roll, that should be full of bitterness and despair—we saw happiness and joy. And potholes. Lots of potholes.
No division. No separation. No hate. No rivalry—well, except for those few Falcon fans who were so boldly walking around in their ATL gear.
New Orleans is a city full of independent thinkers, creative spirits, and individualistic hippies. And I pray that never changes because that’s what we love about this city.
The food, the music, the history, the people— and most importantly the overwhelming welcome you get from each and every person you come into contact with — is exactly what makes New Orleans one of a kind.
This place is special because of the people. Their hearts. Their culture. Their passion. They are loud and proud of their city. And thankfully, covid didn’t take that away from them.
So, here’s to 17 more trips in 5 years with my PIC as we try to navigate the most incredible food scene — free of corn.
See you for Week 7 for Bucs vs. Saints on All Hallow’ Eve. We can’t wait to get weird with y’all!
(As a lifelong Cowboy fan…) Who Dat and Geaux Saints!
