In a drunken stupor,
I woke and heard Nola call my Name…
A night of debauchery, raiding all the famous New Orlean bars, admiring this city’s incredible history and liqueur.
Not sure who told me this, I remember vividly a saying “when drinks go down, the truth comes up”. That night was filled with old memories of all the crazy shit, me and my brother Omid went thru in college. The drunker we got, the more we were able to feel the city come alive in the night.
New Orleans has been an enigma, rooted deeply in its past, always and forever unable to develop past its history. Maybe its for the better.
When you walk these streets, you feel a type of way. The jazz music pouring out of spaces that served as Harems in a previous life.
Jumping from one bar to another seemed to be so much easier in New Orleans. Not sure if it’s the humidity in the air, the old historical buildings that meet your field of vision, wherever you may turn.
Wherever you go the soul of NOLA goes with you.
As the night went on and the memories started to pass thru the veil of drunkenness, I sat there “drinking to myself … and wondered what a wonderful world”.
Prelude:
Some photos from the previous day, Before the Drinking started…
The Crew.
The only time in my life, where the hangover was not as bad as it should have been
It was 9am in New Orleans.
With barely a recollection of how I got back to the Hotel Room, I found myself in between dream states, wondering if the music I heard was a figment of my imagination.
You see, in NOLA, right when you think your done partying, the entire city will remind you to get the fuck up and continue pressing forward.
With squinty eyes, I peered off the balcony and witnessed all of NOLA congregating for a parade.
The reason for the parade… Unknown.
I got dressed, splashed some water on my face, loaded up my Camera (Panasonic Super Mini), and joined the parade.
Here are some photos from that day.
