Surviving the Big Easy

What do you call a person who goes to New Orleans, drinks like a fish, parties like a rock star, eats whatever she wants, and doesn’t gain weight or get a hangover?  Twenty.

I, on the other hand, turned forty, which means I partied like an accountant.  Actually, we traveled with my BFF, Regina, and her husband, Payman, and they were both pretty impressed I made it till almost 2 a.m. the one night we did go clubbing.  So while not achieving rock star status, I at least rivaled contestants from season 4 American Idol status, right?

Mostly we just had a really good time.  We did a ghost tour (followed by drinking,) saw a voodoo priestess’ grave site,

visited the Oak Alley Plantation thinking it was where they filmed Gone With The Wind (oops – wrong, but still fun,)

got into the Marti Gras spirit,

got a massage, tried on some masks, ate fabulous Cajun cuisine

including (but not limited to) alligator nuggets (tastes like chicken clams,)

and got our palms read by a psychic named Nicolette on a foggy night.  (The fog makes it more accurate.)

I even fit in a workout.  Yay!  

Now I’m home and back to my meal plan and exercise split.  I’m happy to report I’m wearing the same pant size after the trip as before, so that alone is a great birthday gift!  Vacations are nice, but so is coming home.

How about you?  Have you ever been to New Orleans before?

Lisa

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