New Orleans is a Louisiana city on the Mississippi River, near the Gulf of Mexico. Nicknamed the “Big Easy,” it’s known for its round-the-clock nightlife, vibrant live-music scene and spicy, singular cuisine reflecting its history as a melting pot of French, African and American cultures. Embodying its festive spirit is Mardi Gras, the late-winter carnival famed for raucous costumed parades and street parties. ― Google
The Last Real Mardi Gras in New Orleans – Part 1
Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport
My First Mardi Gras and First Time Traveling Solo
I am passive non-aggressive. This means I am completely chill and content until I’m all the sudden in a state of complete discontent and must do something immediately. Sometimes Ill wake up one morning and hate my hair. Instead of waiting the week required to get in to a person that KNOWS HOW TO FUCKING DO HAIR, I go to some ghetto place (and they turn my hair blue) or do it myself (and melt it off): because it needs to be done that day. Other times, I decide I need a vaca and book a trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras by myself. This time, it was the ladder.
Me and my cousins girlfriend (and my friend!) Tee, had mentioned at one point she wanted to go with me. I gave her flight info but she was working like across the country somewhere around that time and I didn’t really think she was serious.
Over the next couple weeks, I book my lodging and get tickets to a few things I didn’t do.
Since it was Mardi Gras, the fucking Motel 8 was like $600 a night! I ended up choosing a Hostel on Canal St. for $110/night. Any other time of the year it would have been $35/night.
PACKING
After Googling Mardi Gras and checking out the City’s Live Cams (mardi gras goes for like a month), I almost just brought titty-tassels but the weather could go any direction that time of year (Feb/March) so I did the adult-thing and rented a bunch of really flashy/fancy shit and brought high heels: None of which I wore and lost one (the jacket).
I am notorious for losing shit. And notorious is probably an understatement. So once again, thinking ahead, I did the adult-thing and I brought 2 ID’s (passport and license) and 2 phones. I had Google Fi at the time and you can order an extra sim card (which I did), so if I happen to lose my phone (which I did), I could just pop in the extra sim card in my backup phone and I’d be ready to roll again.
IN RETROSPECT, I THINK I MAY BE ONE OF THE STUPIDEST SMART PEOPLE IN EXISTENCE.
THE FLIGHT
The flight wasn’t too bad, except for the layover in Salt Lake City. If you have ever been to SLC – I’m fucking sorry! Maybe it’s because it was a Sunday, but that place was fucking dreadful! It’s like nobody has ever wanted a shot of tequila at 10am there before. Jesus.
There was nowhere to get booze in the Airport, so I called an Uber and had him drive me all over the desolate shit hole trying to acquire this foreign substance called ALCOHOL, but they were apparently clean out. $70 later and sweating, I barely make it to my connecting flight and order a Vodka with a Vodka chaser.
NEW ORLEANS
The drive to the Hostel was a tearjerker. I don’t know exactly when Katrina was, but it was a good couple Presidents ago, and there were still miles of abandoned houses with the doors still painted with the number of alive and dead people found. It gave me chills. Then when I get out of my cab at the Hostel, I look up and am like WTF !!?? Half this fucking building was missing!!! Then I noticed the sidewalk was in shambles (marble missing and stacked up randomly along side buildings and shit).
Fuck, they’re really taking their time fixing this Katrina shit, Jesus Christ.
Come to find out it was the Hard Rock Hotel construction collapse I saw on the news months before. Apparently, no one has been able to do anything or enter the Hotel due to safety reasons and lawsuits. There were still dead people in there!! One of these individuals’ legs had been visibly hanging out of a collapsed section this building the entire time. Those poor fucking family members – what is wrong with people, get them the fuck out.
After unpacking my shit, I freshened up and headed out (note, still looking normal).
OTW out I noticed a hippie with a purse gathering a group of lost looking individuals from the hostel. I remember him checking me in earlier. He asked what I was doing (I had no fucking idea) and invited me to join them “club hopping”. Shit, why not?
First one we went to, I had 2 red bull and vodkas and, after this waitress made me suck jello shots from her boobs, I was up on the dance floor (probably pretending I could twerk).
Some cute, but kinda homely, blonde chick took notice of me and I got the feeling she wanted to have my babies. At some point she was pulling me in and out of back doors of different buildings and shit, up flights of stairs (she was obviously a local)… at one point a bouncer told her she couldn’t get in, then she whispered something in his ear and he let her in.
Anyways, after another drink or so at some weird bar I started to realize that maybe she didn’t know that I couldn’t/didn’t want to make babies with her because she was introducing me to everyone like her fancy husband…So, the first chance I got, I darted.
Stumbled back to the hostel and passed the fuck out.
The beds at this place. Let me tell you about the beds: they were a cloud of pure ecstasy that fell from heaven, no joke. I even asked were they got them and they wouldn’t tell me. Trade secret or some shit. You know, in case I wanted to open a competing hostel next door.
The next morning, I headed out and just walked. I walked all fucking day – eyes wide with culture shock.
Every fucking walk of life crammed together in one beautiful but filthy soup bowl. I loved it! If Las Vegas and Walmart had a crack baby – this would be it. A little classy with a lot of trashy. And just fucking weird! No rhyme or reason for anything… old men dressed up as batman… wizards marching yelling “all hale King Treton”…. Grown ass woman in swimsuits throwing batons… fat-ass chicks in fishnets and thong onesies… men dressed as green woman… Spiderman’s having a dance battle… Jesus, you name it! Oh and you can’t forget the Monks marching around saying we will all burn because something to do with the flesh lol (I got pictures droppin it like it was hot on one of them)…
I went to watch one of the parades going on. I was sitting upon a garbage can, the envy of all, when a dude came by selling White Claws… What In The Fuck, you can drink outside here!!?? [A bright light shown down upon him and angels sang]. I was going to like this place.
At one point that night I was sitting on the curb, a little fucked up, having a cigarette, and this black dude sitting next to me says “I’ve never made out with a white chick before”. So, I obviously made out with him (duh), said “now you have”, and I left.
It was around this point that I realized I couldn’t find my phone. Fuck. I somehow made it back to the Hostel without GPS and was drunkenly rummaging through my shit in the dark, as to not disturb the other 7 potentially sleeping roommates. One, I’m sure I was loud AF soo…… Two, why the fuck was I looking for my phone at the Hostel (dumbass)??
BTW, remember when I said I was the stupidest smart person? Well , If you’re going to be smart enough to bring an extra phone because you know you’ll lose one – start with the SHITTY PHONE FOR SHITS SAKE! My retarded ass had to use a Samsung Galaxy like S-negative-fucking-3 or something the remainder of the trip.
Anyways… I’m rummaging through my shit for God-knows-what, when all the sudden the light turns on and I hear “SUMMER!!!” I swing my head around and who do I see, but Tee-fucking-Lang! (No, she’s not Asian if you’re wondering you racist bastard).
How she found me is amazing on so many levels lol
Tee had booked her ticket the night before. I had no idea. She had no idea where I was staying and thought after arriving at the New Orleans airport would be an ideal time to ask.
Well, silly her – I had already been there for over 24-hrs (well over the “lose my phone” threshold)…
She called my aunt, unable to reach me, and somehow found the Hostel I was at (good guess?? I don’t know…), they happen to have a bed available in the same room and I happen to be in there in the dark by myself at 1am… next time I bitch about bad luck, please remind me via comment about this night.
Anyways, I was like “Holy shit balls” and we went out and explored (not looking so normal anymore), came back, and were dead to the world. Until (dun dun dun!)- the two dumb bitches from Europe somewhere turned on the fucking lights to put on their makeup and speaking loudly in they\”re ungodly accent. I literally slammed my curtain open and just stared at them until they were done (which I’d like to
think was sooner than if I had not). They have bathrooms for that shit in Hostels – WTF!?
Our other roommates included a chick from China (we became BFF’s with), a badass from like Scotland or some shit, and a stripper from Portland (go figure).
This is when Covid was just surfacing and China was shutting down. I asked her and she seemed genuinely disturbed by the whole thing. She said her parents were farmers and out of the city so they’d most likely be safe but was stressed out about the whole thing. She had apparently cashed out some retirement and had been traveling the world. She had just completed a week long backpacking
trip through the Arizona desert with strangers. Cray Cray. And when I say “retirement”, I am just as confused as you are going to be because she looked 12. She’s Chinese though and they do tend to hold up better than our American haggard asses, but still. I don’t remember her name so for the sake of simplicity, I will call her “China” when she comes up again.
Night has now been upon us for some time and for some reason, I’m getting somewhat sober. Tee on the other hand, is obliterated. I’m trying to keep her from drinking anymore but every time I turnaround she’s got a jello shot or some shit she got from her fucking booze genie!
We stop to get a hotdog and I suddenly realize that the only thing I’ve eaten since Saturday is a fucking pickle. Its Monday night. Jesus.
Anyways, we had this whole plan to get Mardi Gras tattoos and so we stopped by this tattoo shop right by the Hostel and “signed up” or whatever. We waited…and waited….and fucking waited some more! Tee couldn’t sit up straight at this point, so we finally just bounced. The next morning the tattoo artist was outside when I went to smoke. I asked him WTF? Apparently, Tee asked our tattoo artist for a cigarette (for me I guess cause her ass don’t smoke lol) and when he didn’t have one, proceeded to tell him to fuck off. In turn, they silently told us to fuck off and we got no tattoos. Yet.
Flight(s) Home Side Note: The New Orleans Airport has really cool toilets! The toilet seat are already lined with seat covers and after every use it rotates! (hopefully not recycling…)
We get to the N.O. airport in the normal/suggested amount of time before our flight leaves — aka, way too early for a fucking smoker. We go through security, which is slow as fuck because they have a dog sniffing each individual passenger before entry. We sit at the bar and I continue to try and drink (Tee having no issues drinking at this point) but I fucking cant! I get tums… some other old people shit and drink some more! But between my newly acquired like heartburn/acid reflux issue and I don’t know what else, I LITERALLY CANNOT GET DRUNK. Tee’s borderline drunk at this point. I need a fucking cigarette. We have plenty of time so I proceed to go smoke. It must have been rush hour for planes because when I got back in the security line, it had quadrupled in length. By the time I got through security we had 19 minutes until our flight left. We ran to the fucking gate and it was closed! They had changed the fucking gate.
We went up to the counter, dumbfounded, because our plane didn’t leave for 14 more minutes, and we were directed to the fine print on our tickets that says “Boarding ends 15 minute before takeoff”.
Why don’t they just put that fucking time on your ticket, that’s BS!
Contrary to common belief however, missing a plane is apparently not that big of a deal (I will really prove that later). The woman at the counter starts tapping away on her computer and says:
“Ladies, you can either stay here and catch another flight to Portland in 8 hours… or you can fly to Houston, Texas in 30 min. for an 8 hour layover there, then catch a flight back to Portland. Which would you like?”
Tee and I look at each other, then I reply-
“Well, I’ve never been to Texas”…
So, we went to Texas. Before taking off we had her friend find us a place in Houston to get our New Orleans tattoos. He found us a quaint little shop in the ghetto, with bars covering the shopfront, that we could acquire these tattoos at 2 am.
The Houston airport fucking sucks BTW. They are literally all assholes. Not one employee there was even the least bit friendly or had any inkling they were part of the customer service industry. For reals. No fucking Joke.
We exit the airport and Im feigning a cigarette. Tee is wasted. She cracks open a beer 10 ft from the airport doors and proceeds to drink in the Uber. My pissed off, sober ass is like “Tee!!! We aren’t in fucking New Orleans anymore – this is Texas bitch! This is the last place I want to go to jail at!!” Her face resembled that of my toddlers would, if I had just recited the Pythagorean theorem to him.
Our driver was this like 350 lb+ black guy and all I remember is him telling us we’re going in the ghetto and we cant hang out outside. We go to a 24-hr Subway along the way, that literally unlocks the bared door for each guest separately….I guess, if they feel like it? Then locks it again behind them.
I was about 1 loud noise sway from shitting my pants. Tee on the other hand had snuck out of the Uber on me when we arrived at the tattoo shop and I was grabbing my shit, and strolled on over to the local convenient store to get more beer. I’m trying to yell at her calmly as we walk into the shop (looking like a crazy white bitch with a stick up my ass) – which in retrospect, is probably why I got the one guy in all of Texas, who tattoos with a fucking sharpie needle. To put in mildly, it looked like shit. But fucking yolo.
We get back to the airport and she cracks open another beer. I lose my shit.
To be honest, it was probably more because I couldn’t get drunk anymore, hadn’t slept in god knows how long, and got a shitty tattoo – I had lost all patience, and threw a fit like a child… to another inebriated child… and she got butt hurt and wandered off. I finished my cigarette and headed in. I figured she’d pop up at the gate or something. In the meantime, I curled up on some chairs in a closed restaurant and attempted to pass out. Checked the airline app again and sure enough our gate changed again…wondered about 10 miles trying to find it (while calling Tee over and over), found it, had a drink, then it changed again… I was basically in tears trying to drag my shit across the airport for the 14th time, when some old man (a TSA worker) on one of those carts took pitty on my ass and gave me a ride.
I boarded the plane and still had not seen Tee. I called my cousin to see if he had heard from Tee and he was all fucking pissed/irritated and was all “you guys need to figure your shit out!”
I was like “bitch, wtf do you think I’m doing!? Try and call her!”
When everyone had boarded and I still didn’t see her I got up and asked a flight attendant. Apparently she did an intercom announcement at the airport and then proceeded to ask the Asian chick 3 seats over, if she was Tashina Lang…. hahaha.
I arrive at PDX and now have no way home. Tee’s friend was supposed to give us a ride and I still could get ahold of her to figure out where she was. I remember my dad saying something about shuttles…. sure enough, it’s a fucking thing! And cheap! I’m the last to load this little fucker (there’s about 6 other people inside), when my coworker calls me (I was supposed to be home like yesterday).. He asks if I’m alive, he hadn’t heard from me…
I reply quietly because I’m in a van with people and don’t want to be “that person”….
Yeah, I’m fine. We just missed a couple flights, ended up in Texas and got tattoos. Haven’t slept in a couple days. Then I lost Tee so I’m taking a shuttle home cause I don’t have a ride. Oh, I also lost my jacket, phone, and passport….
I notice the van is laughing.
What happened to Tee, you ask? She apparently went inside to where our gate was originally supposed to be located, fell asleep, and woke up too late to figure out where the fuck she was going. She got a flight to PDX like an hour later. Note: neither one of us were sour about the ordeal. This is still, hands down, the most fun I’ve ever had on trip to-date.
Takeaways
I have this travel book and at the time, this is what was
apparently important for me to remember:
Basically:
- All airports suck but PDX (which I am still a firm believer in)
- New Orleans is dirty as fuck but beautiful (just don’t wear white)
- The people there are super friendly and laid back
- You can walk around the streets with booze. We had a dance party in the convenience store at one point.
- Don’t bring fancy shit
- Missing flights is not a big deal (I missed a flight in San Francisco as well… had to wait like 45 min for the next one)
- Apparently missing planes gives you cankles.
- The people are the nicest people I’ve probably met anywhere
- Weather is lovely
- My short cowboy boots (worn in) were my go-to the entire trip. That and some cutoff shorts and whatever top you want would be perfect for this place (Mardi Gras or not)
If you’re wondering about the “Cankles” – OM-fucking-G, it was no joke. My ankles were fatter than my calves! I had rolls on them lol. Guess it’s from flying. I definitely got compression socks for my next long flight. Oh, and I beat myself up somehow on every vacation I go on (I included the aftermath of my San Francisco trip below as well lol)
On a Serious Note
Aside from my champagne problems there was something very interesting that I didn’t realize until weeks later. Thinking back on my trip and looking at pictures, in suddenly dawned on me how segregated New Orleans was. There was like an imaginary line near Canal Street (or around the French Quarter), and it was dominantly white folk on one side and black folk on the other. Freaking weird.
A Single White Female 