My flight to New Orleans on Saturday, June 27, 2009, was uneventful. I arrived sometime after 10 a.m. and caught a cab to The Maison Dupuy at 1001 Rue Toulouse, a hotel that the company had booked me for one night since the main hotel was not yet available. The somewhat cold woman at the front desk informed me that my room would not be available until 4 p.m. I indicated that this would be no problem, then set up camp in the lobby, opening my suitcase to get out papers, plugging my laptop and cell phone in to charge and making a phone call to my friend Holly. Not suprisingly, I had a room within about 40 minutes.
The room was quite nice. I relaxed a bit. A phone call from a co-worker asking if I would like to go find some lunch stirred me at about 1 p.m. Off we went to walk towards Canal Street. We found a fun, but humid, eatery and I enjoyed some jambalaya. I also sampled the corner of a friend's catfish - also delicious. Back to the hotel we went, where we found more co-workers. We all retired to our rooms for a rest, then regrouped at dinner time. We set off more or less in the same direction and ate appetizers prior to assembling at a prearranged spot for 'ghost tour' of the French Quarter, which turned out to be a snooze festival. So we ditched the tour group, hired a horse carriage and took a different sort of tour. When that concluded, we bravely set forth towards Bourbon Street.
Announcement --- I am too old for Bourbon Street. I hung in there for a while - even enjoyed a great rock band for about 90 minutes. (Twenty-five years ago I would have thrown myself at the guitar player.) But at the first sign that one of our group was ready to go, I cut out of there like a razor blade. (But it was fun.) And we took a cab back to the hotel. LOL