Welcome to the Shitshow: Blogging Tales of the Cocktail

I traveled an obnoxious amount, showing up at Sea-Tac at 9:30 am and getting into NOLA at 8:30 pm, and I ate very little (two bags of peanuts and a chocolate donut), then found myself in 90+ degrees with obnoxious southern humidity. Here are my curt initial observations:
- Fucking neon. Holy shit, really? And classic rock cover bands in every bar on every block?
- In between the classic rock cover band bars are strips clubs. Lots of them. Wait...
- And lots of alcohol and no open container laws...
- This place, at least Bourbon street, reminds me of a hybrid of Amsterdam and Vegas meets some caricature of a Creole port town. I can't decide if I love or hate it.

I'm exhausted already and back at the hotel rallying with some water and bourbon after realizing that the peripheral moments in Tales are filled with VIP-who-you-know-kinda parties. Rather than press my luck, I'm going to go see what kind of trouble I can get into...maybe with that gang from Houston's Anvil Bar. They seemed...promising. More to come.