NOLA

I wish I’d stayed another night as planned. What I wouldn’t give to be quaffing an Abita right now in the warm, wet Mississippi breeze.

This morning I decided to leave New Orleans for Baton Rouge. This decision was impacted by several factors. I didn’t want to have to deal with parking at noon when I’d rather be out tramping. I didn’t feel like moving lodgings over to the American side of town and then riding the rails back and forth to the Quarter pissed out of my skull. I didn’t want to shortchange my time because I really want to spend at least a week exploring the town and seeing more of the sights than I’ve seen in my last trips (the Old Mint, Mardi Gras World, the Historic New Orleans Collection, Frenchman Street, Magazine St, a post-Katrina visit to the Irish Channel).

Most of all I left because if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I ever would.

Off to Baton Rouge. I was pretty stoked to come back here. I remember it being an oasis of sanity after a less-enthusiastically experienced trip to NOLA last summer. I considered BTR a serious contender for a place to live – it’s got LSU, a semi-happening downtown area, the River – but after this trip I realized it’s an almost entirely suburban town. There are spectacularly beautiful neighborhoods – Spanish Town and the Garden District – but no walkable, mixed use, etc. Bummer.

Hey, Red Stick – it’s been real. But unless you’re going to let me be Governor – and I promise to be suitably nuts – I’m easing on down the road.

Or in other words, “You may all go to hell and I will go to Texas.”

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