On The Bayou

[author: Natalie]

I was told that New Orleans would be swampy, but when I pried the RV door open and hopped down into the French Quarter RV park, my skin crinkled with disgust. I was not in any way ready for a hot bath. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, I was willing to keep an open mind about this unique city.

Although we arrived at the RV park at 11pm, Drew and mom and dad (who had all been to New Orleans many times before) were excited to show me a warm “N’awlins” welcome and took me out for a night on the town. A quick walk shot us onto Bourbon street and again my senses were altogether overwhelmed. Smells, noises and drunkards, oh my! The stench of this city is quite unbearable for my nose, so I began to breathe through my mouth and focus on the sights.

We dipped into a famous dueling piano bar called Pat O’Briens. We were shown to a table right at the front of the stage and smack between the two pianos. The perfect spot for the Blundells to make their debut. No, not really, but we did get rowdy after a few hurricanes.

There were two outstanding MVPs of the night, one was a paid performer, and one was, well, not. I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked back to find an older, plumper, smiley gentleman hoping to get past my chair and onto the stage. The next song started and this Alvin fellow began to tap his thimble-coated fingers on the bottom of a metal server’s tray in time to the music. He smiled and spun and shook his hips and managed to acquire a healthy wad of tips.

The second MVP was a gentleman customer sitting at the table next to us. And he wasn’t doing much sitting. Clearly a groomsman from a wedding that very day, he commanded the room and encouraged all to stand and flail and sing along to many popular songs. Further, he pulled up a chair to sit with the four of us and kindly introduced himself as Kyle from the Bay Area. He told us he had a one-year-old daughter and complimented us on how cute we were after telling him our RV story. “I hope to have this someday, I really do,” he shouted. We felt flattered and turned to each other once he left and all smiled at the stranger who helped us realize how special this trip really is.

We stumbled out of the bar and headed for a late night beignet at Café du Monde. Sneaking in right before they closed at 2am, I grinned when a steaming plate of three beignets was placed in front of me. I have never tasted a doughnut that light and fluffy and it was the cherry on top of a wonderfully eccentric first night in New Orleans.