My First Hour in New Orleans.

As many people know by now, I finally made my way back to Texas. It was a long and eventful journey back, but I did it…and not without the help and support of some amazing friends. My arrival back has been a fun one, filled with events, dining out, spending time with old friends, drenched in memories from even a decade ago, and some drastic adjustments from Florida country living. Nothing I can’t handle of course and I couldn’t be happier to be here.

What you may not know is that I stopped in New Orleans during Mardi Gras on the way from Florida to Texas.

What. A. Blast!

We ( a friend and I) coasted into NOLA around 1:00 pm, just 15 minutes before my birthday surprise, a French manicure appointment. As if just being in New Orleans wasn’t enough already.  Poor, tired Timmy fought the ever thickening throng of wandering pedestrians to get me to the Hotel Monteleone in time for the spa appointment. Which is just a fancy way of saying, “Got mah nails did, ya’ll” at Spa Aria, located on the second level of the grandiose hotel.

As Tim navigated the crowded streets, I stared out the window at the city in a state of pure excitement and simultaneous total exhaustion. We both had barely slept over the last two days and we’d been in the car for well over 10 hours at that point.  I peppered our tired yet building excited silence with loud and ecstatic exclamations.

“Would you just LOOK at that balcony?!”

“Hey! All the dogs are wearing costumes!”

“Wow. I think that chick was a dude!”

“Where is Bourbon Street?!? Is that one Bourbon Street? Wow, SO many streets!”

This was a oft-repeated one. –> “I can NOT believe we are in freaking New Orleans!!”

Tim would grin, murmur and nod in gleeful agreement while devoting his attention to not running over the oblivious masses of people filling the streets of the French Quarter to brimming with laughter and life. This was not an easy task, as it was apparently a dog parade day and the sheer number of dogs running around in elaborate, brightly colored and even metallic costumes was a sight to behold. As we neared the heart of the Quarter, the number of people swelled and we were halted shortly by ropes that barred any further vehicle access.

Tim slid the car quickly into a narrow slot near the curb and looked at me apologetically, ignoring the woman motioning for us to move on outside his window.

“You’re going to have to walk to the hotel alone, Jen. I’ll take care of check-in at the Hotel Bienville but your appointment is in 5 minutes.”

A million thoughts flashed through my mind in response. I heard the countless warnings I’d received from good friends once they’d heard about my plan to detour in New Orleans for Mardi Gras weekend.The warning varied but all carried the same message. The message was: New Orleans is dangerous. Be very careful.

I spoke urgently, quickly.

“My cellphone is dead though! What if you can’t find me??”

Then, in the same breath, I took a look at my options and committed to going with the flow.

“Hmm. Umm. Okay. Where is the hotel?”

Tim kind of winced when I asked that pretty important question.

“That’s just it, Jen. I don’t really know, except it is that direction.” He waved back toward the street we’d just left. ” Stay on Rue Royale and you will find it.”

He waved in the opposite direction and I looked at him a little wide-eyed for a minute. I was thinking, ‘Really? I’m going to go walk around the French Quarter…for the first time…completely alone??’

My next thought was the same one but with a completely different emphasis.

“I’m going to walk around the French Quarter for the first time completely alone!”‘

Suddenly I was filled with excitement. I grabbed my purse, rummaged through it and because of my typical absent-mindedness, was forced to hunt for random things I wanted to take along with me.

Shoving my feet hurriedly back into my tennis shoes, I flashed a quick and reassuring smile at Timmy and opened the car door. Tim waved off the lady assigned to make sure cars didn’t linger and we said our snappy goodbyes. He looked at my with concern but I was more than ready for this adventure.

I jumped out of the car, secured my purse to my arm and set off at a fast pace in the direction of the Hotel Monteleone. I had no idea what I was looking for, but refused to look lost or confused. I walked confidently and fast (when I say I walked fast, imagine the Flash. I am QUICK, people) down the street, letting my eyes take in the passing shops and exciting sights,  pausing only once to admire a 4 piece jazz band sitting directly in the middle of the street.

When I walk through thick groups of people, I often imagine the dodging and weaving in between them I do as a game. A game that I am very good at. This was pretend-game heaven for me. I had countless dressed up dogs to avoid, so many people to scoot past and whirl around. Tall people, kissing people, little kids chasing each other around and giggling before darting away.  I couldn’t keep track of them all. Keeping a tight hold on my purse the whole time, I danced my way through the streets and people of New Orleans, with a happy song in my heart and a smile on my lips.

I crossed about three streets before I saw the tall white building with the words Hotel Monteleone written vertically down its side. Though I still had some walking to do, I breathed an audible sigh of relief. Now, I knew where I was headed.

Upon arriving at the Hotel, I walked in and realized that (yet again) I had no idea where I was going. I lightly ran up the steps and smiled euphorically at the doorman as he bowed slightly and opened the door. Oh! How lovely…the lobby was splendid.

The front desk concierge obviously had his hands full and, not bothering to hide my astonishment at the splendor of the lobby, I stepped into line. A giant chandelier, dripping in crystal and suffused with a warm, golden glow, dominated the entry way. I looked back at it more than once while waiting in line for the front desk. I smiled the entire time. I must have been the happiest person in the room in that moment and I didn’t have one iota of concern about showing it off.

A friendly and beautiful full-lipped concierge pointed me in the direction of the SPA ARIA and I thanked her giddily. First time in N’Awlins and first manicure. I rode up the elevator and stepped off onto a rather bland hallway. Not the grandeur the foyer led me to expect, but I couldn’t care less. It could’ve looked like a crack hotel and I would’ve been happy with it.

A woman, maybe mistaking my happiness for crazy town, pointed me in the direction of the Spa in hushed tones. I unconsciously mimicked her, thanking her in a delighted whisper. Stepping into the Spa Aria was a breath of fresh air after the long car ride. Little stone adorned waterfalls filled the place with the teeny sounds of trickling water.  Calming scents and voices were used in excess here in Spa Heaven. I was guided gently to the back where my hands and arms were treated like two princesses. Sitting back and relaxing for the first time in a long time, I let the calming voice and hands of Sofia lull me into a tranquil place.

It was in this trance-like state that my friend found me. He was ushered to a chair nearby, promptly provided with a Mimosa (champagne and orange juice) and they even offered him a shower after we mentioned the long hours we’d spent in the car, previous to our arrival.

Treated to my first manicure and paraffin wax just minutes after arriving in The Big Easy. Not too shabby, I thought!

This was only the beginning, however, of what would turn out to be a fantastic weekend in N’Awlins…