Jane and I got up early to hit the French Quarter. A friend of Jane's family had planned a cookout party for the day to welcome us to town that would have been a blast but the tropical storm the day before slowed our ride in down and our plans of doing bourbon st the night before fell through. We graciously bailed out of the house party in favor of spending our only full day in NOLA at the river front partying with the rest of the tourists.

We rolled in around noon and had no problem finding a parking spot in front of the world famous Boon dock Saints bar. It is known all the way back in Michigan as a safe place to park a bike all day.

We pulled out one of the many maps that friends and relatives had marked all their favorite drinking holes on and got our bearings before hobbling off to find breakfast. We settled on a spot right on the river front a few blocks away where we filled up with massive plates of Beans and Rice washed down with a few beers.

We spent the afternoon sightseeing the place before the crowds arrived. I was tied to the short leash of the parking meter and as such we had to make several loops back by the bike to feed the kitty a couple of bucks and touch base in the boondocks once they opened up. Until the fuzzy wuzzy time that you don't need to feed the meters anymore you have to spend the day staring at your watch. Every decision is tied to how much leash you have left on the meter. It proved to be a pain in the ass having to beg and scrounge change and keep running back. There has to be a better way. The endless supply of ATMs need companion change machines next to them.

Jane's clan met us at the Boondock at 4 o'clock and after a great dinner next door at Your Momma's something or other we ventured out to find America. Beth and Brandon peeled off early and Diana and her man Robbie hung out to show us how to do the big easy right. The endless bars and strip joints haven't changed since the beginning of time with all their unique charm and hustle. The barkers out in front of the bars looking to funnel people into their particular hole in the wall to spend money. Strippers swung from swings right out upper windows over top of the sidewalks and the neon and flashing lights were blinding.

Robbie was an old hat when it comes to the area. We explored the alleys and back streets that the tourists are told not to venture into because of safety reasons and hit some pretty obscure local hang outs. The coolest one I thought was the Dungeon with their trap doors, hidden passages and bathrooms behind swing out bookshelves. They did not allow any pics due to the adult theme of the place or I could've done a page just on it.

The partiers thinned out around midnight being a weeknight and we finally called it a night. Jane was past the point of no return and we still had to find our way back to sister Beth's house. Rob and I had started pacing ourselves the last couple of hours in preparation for the ride home while Jane and Diana were drinking faster to get in all the hoppin' and hollarin' they could before passing out.

The Quarter is a cool place once it quiets down and the locals start hosing it down in anticipation of another day of drunks trashing it out again. There is a dark surrealism to the whole ritual.

I loved the French Quarter and I'm real happy to have been able to have the chance to ride halfway across the country to park the bike on the most famous party street in the world. It makes me proud to be living in America.