This run was a spur of the moment idea sitting on the deck at Ziggyland South on the Gulf coast in Texas working on a pitcher of vodka rum boat drinks. A quick google put her at 5 hours drive. I did the drive before on bike years ago (that trip is here somewhere) in a tropical monsoon so it took much longer. I made the reservations and surprised miss Pammy.

We hit the strip on a Thursday night saving hundreds of dollars off the crazy ass weekend rate for the same room. We booked a balcony room a block off of Bourbon st. called The Olivier House Hotel.

This is a historical cozy old residence converted into a romantic panty dropper of a place in sight of the party but just far away to escape the drunks when you slide in off the strip.

They only have valet parking due the nature of the roads but the manager was afraid to drive my car (Jaguar) so he paid a local to stand by it all night to keep an eye on her. Of coarse with our balcony being right above the car I had to fuck with him by setting off the alarm from the key fob once in a while when balcony drinking. Having a room right there at the end of the strip was great. We would do a lap then retreat for a room drink and rally up for the next run. Yup, The running of the drunks... Being a week day the crowds were just right.

One of my favorite bars is The Dungeon. There is enough myth and legend tied to this hole in the alley to fill your head with creepy images of mass murder and witch craft to your hearts content.

After squeezing between the building into a foyer for the back of the building on the next street you knock on the door and after a short list of bar rules you can enter the evil dark underground world of the Dungeon. A world of 2x4 cages and rattle can black walls. The bathrooms use to be hidden behind secret swinging book cases. no longer as no one could ever find them.

If your lucky the upstairs is open. This is where the fun is. two bars in a small room that literally shakes under your feet with the monster sub woofer pounding out the hard metal rock. The barmaids are wild young tattooed free spirits floating around the world on their rich daddy's trust funds. This is a theme you will find throughout the strip.

I always have to get a gut full of Lucky Dogs while walking the strip. They are on every corner it seems and the cart ppl are always characters. one corner it's a pirate the next is a naked chick dressed in electrical tape. How can a guy with a scull and crossbones on his throat not make a good hotdog, and naked chicks and hot dogs speak for itself....... It all makes sense in the French Quarter. Bourbon, beer and dogs! What could possibly go wrong?

We wore the cobblestone bare before staggering back to our haunted hotel room for a well deserved night's sleep. Woke to our front row parking and after breakfast at the square we rolled out for the Smoky Mountains for more adventure.

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