Kickin’ down on Bourbon Street

Up and out at 4:00 a.m., I wanted to make the most of running in New Orleans. I planned to complete each turn of Jackson Square, pass through the French Market and run along the mighty Mississippi. Thirty seconds into the run I wondered how I had forgotten to include Bourbon Street. I spun down St. Charles and headed toward the world renowned party road.
En route I wondered if anyone would be out and about at the early hour. As if on cue, I came into earshot of music, which I soon realized was a live band. As I approached, other tunes from various bars mingled and filled the early morning air. Far more than a critical mass had taken the night life and turned it to day. Dancers kept the beat in clubs and on the sidewalks revelers pumped eclectic life into the predawn. Intrigued, I kept running down the south's version of the Vegas Strip.

Many of the energized partiers made some sort of comment as I jogged past. Mostly the words were humorous or supportive of exercise rather than drinking and debauchery. Suddenly I had a thought crash in on me. Most of these folks had been imbibing for an untold number of hours. I followed that thought with the consideration of a lecture I give on New Orleans as a place where people go on “moral holiday.” In short, norms and rules are suspended and impulsive actions are the standard. I decided not to roll the dice.

I had seen enough and didn't want to test my luck. So, I continued toward the other destinations on this Taste of New Orleans run. I scooted around the places previously planned. Along the way I passed the Cafe du Monde, which had just been cleaned for the night. For a few fleeting hours, the patio wouldn’t be covered in powered sugar. People staggered along the sidewalks, lovers cuddled in breezeways, cars and bikes traveled as if it were lunch hour. I think New Orleans can rival New York or Las Vegas as the city that never sleeps.

Tom