Introduction

Down in New Orleans, we went to Bourbon Street four times in one week. I mean, how could you not? A bunch of college kids in New Orleans, it seemed only natural. The first night, truthfully I did not know what to expect. The only comparable thing I had ever seen was Beale Street in Memphis, and that only briefly. But, come on, this was Bourbon Street, right? I was ready for anything, but most of all, I was ready to have the time of my life. As we turned off Canal Street and onto Bourbon, my first thought was “wait, this is it?” In front of me stretched about half a block of brick wall(the sides of the buildings facing Canal). The first store on the right was a half-rate White Castle. And the street was empty. Other than us, there were maybe five people, half of them street musicians. Ok, street musicians are cool, maybe this is still good. Then I looked on the other side of the street, saw the Hustler Store, and beyond it, saw neon signs suspended above the street for as far as I could see. That was the final sight that convinced me that it was going to be a great week. It was not to be on this night, though. As that first night wore on, I was sorely disappointed that it never really got crowded. Then I realized it was Monday night and breathed a little sigh of relief. That night, we went with some other people staying at the church, and they took us to this little bar off Bourbon Street that would come to be involved in the rest of our trip, coloring all our Bourbon Street visits afterward. It was a little Irish cop bar, and as soon as I walked in, I knew I loved it. Very simple, very not crowded, very chill. We sat there the first night, and were regaled by the others of the stories they had accumulated in their time in the city. Hearing these stories(ranging from crime to booze to parties to sob stories), it made me realize that there is no easy way to talk about this trip. There is no easy cut and dry way to explain it to people or anything. This city is so different from anything else in our country that you have to tell all these different stories just to even have a chance at grasping the big picture of it. All these stories and emotions are what make up New Orleans now. You can’t just say, “oh the trip was fine” you feel compelled to immerse the person in your trip the way you were immersed in the city. I have found this city very easily to fall in love with, and impossible to fully leave, ever. A part of me will always stay there, in that week, trying to make some kind of a difference.