Lose Yourself in New Orleans

Farewelling the fascinating French Quarter began with forcing ourselves from our slumbers. If we were sleeping beauties, we certainly weren't when we awoke.

Fortunately Anna, Kyra and I knew exactly where to find iHop. Unfortunately, the experience was not quite as positive as the day before. 

My first meal was supposed to come with garlic bread. They'd run out. I declined the offer of Texas toast. What even is Texas toast? Does each state have their own official toast? (I now know it is thick sliced toast). 

My fruit crepes were advertised with a side of ice-cream. "Excuse me sir, have you also run out of ice-cream?" 

"That's an additional side." I was aware ice-cream was not an "additional side". Nobody comes between bae (food) and I.

After fruit crepes a la mode the desire for sleep was strong, so we heaved ourselves to the IMAX theatre. We decided against a movie, but did find a bench. We slumped all over that poor bench for a solid hour. 

We were fading. We began walking knees weak, arms were heavy... On the surface we looked dishevelled and ready to drop into some epic naps. 

Instead, I did something I've never done before. 

I bought coffee. 

After three hours of comfortable seating we took a caffeinated amble down Royal Street. Strolling past art galleries and iconic buildings. 

Then it was time to finally time to try a po boy. The French Market contained delightful fare and a mildly entertaining band with a mostly rude band member harassing us for tips. You catch more tips with honey and he was all out of the sweet spread. 

We couldn't leave the captivating city without farewelling our favourite New Orleans nightspots. Kyra and I took to the Cats Meow karaoke stage one last time. The girl recording the song choices was excited to see me back, giving me a hug. 

The unkempt appearance of Kyra and I suggested we belonged in rehab, so we performed a rendition of Amy Winehouse's refusal to enter such a facility. 

We killed it. We nailed it. 

We opened our mouths, but the words wouldn't come out. By killed it, I mean we butchered that song so hard we nailed shut our karaoke coffins. Or so we thought until the next day when Kyra's Instagram account gained a new follower, captijimenez92. It was the girl who recorded the song choices. 

Yes, that does say #newbest. 

After one last dance at Bandstand we took the twelve hour bus back to reality. 

If you're considering an American adventure to the lovely Louisiana city. Just do it. Lose yourself in New Orleans.