Wolfing a Lucky Dog on the corner of Bourbon and Toulouse streets. Stumbling up to the darkened bar in Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop in search of one last frozen drink. Sipping a hurricane in the Pat O’Brien’s courtyard between drags of a Capri Slim bummed off a group of tourists.
No, these aren’t the blurry memories from my first visit to New Orleans, though they do resemble them. This is research, damn it, and I did it for you.
If you, like me, are over the age of 30 and therefore avoid sugary drinks like the plague, then we both know it can feel like a burden when friends and family in town for Jazz Fest or the holidays excitedly announce that they want “at least one night on Bourbon Street, just to see it” or “just one daiquiri” because “when in Rome, right?”…