A Vegetarian in New Orleans on Thanksgiving: A meaty holiday in a fishy town versus a 'no, thanks' herbivore

(This bitch made me fat.)

I'm the first to admit the odds were stacked against me. There's three things New Orleans prides itself on: music, food, and partying. The food part is the only part I have problems with. The food in NOLA is great- or so I hear. I'll never know it any deeper that the 5" thick french fry po boy at Mahony's. That's because it's a meat and seafood town, and I've been vegetarian since 1995.




So how did I spend my Thanksgiving in the Big Easy?

8am - I wake the fuck up. Shit, I didn't turn off my alarm last night before passing out. Oh well. I drag my ass down to the lobby, where I poor myself two go-cups of weak coffee. I drink them in my room and listen to the 11/16 episode of The Howard Stern Show.

9am - Go back downstairs and am too croutons to figure out how use the waffle batter dispenser @ continental breakfast. I have to ask the disgruntled breakfast hostess to give me a batter dispenser tutorial. I am suck a freaking crouton.

11am - Inhaled shame waffle. Stupid Thanksgiving Day Parade is on TV, and all I can think about is how much that must be effing up traffic in the city.

(Val POV)

11:15am - I am overwhelmed with the urge to ride my bike. So I  hop on LaDonna (my purple beach cruiser) and head uptown on Magazine Street.

 Traffic is light because everyone else is home eating turkey with their families, so I have the luxury of riding the newly paved Magazine. This may be the one stretch of road in New Orleans that isn't pocked with potholes.

I'm listening to a playlist of popular dance music that will remain anonymous. It is really fun to lip sync while bicycling.





12pm - Still riding uptown on Magazine, and I'm seeing all sorts of fun stuff! This street is one of the main shopping streets. There are loads of boutiques and restaurants on Magazine, thanks to Katrina (which forced businesses to move to drier, less fucked by the flood locations).

(Magazine Street wasn't chic until after Katrina)

 On Magazine, I pass this place. Do they clean clothes, or boobies? It's New Orleans, so I'm gonna split the difference and assume the specialize in dry cleaning Mardi Gras pasties.

This is the 2nd District police station on Magazine. Shady.

Ah, New Orleans. The city can't get a damn street sign put up, so a local artist has to make it instead. And of course it's a weird fucking word no dyslexic and/or tourist will ever say right.

(Tennis, no one?)

12:30pm - I reach the end of Magazine, where it runs into Audubon Park. I've only ever visited the lakeside side of the park, so today I turn my bike south and head into the side of the park where the tennis courts are.










I had no idea how beautiful it was on this side of the park! Especially since the side I had been to before was breathtaking. I didn't think it would be possible to have a prettier park, but then I saw this:

(Smile, bikey! Smile, Mississippi!)

(LaDonna, my bike and my muse) 

(Here's where you sit to write a manifesto on why interactions
with other humans is overrated.)

   

(Mile ten)

1pm - I realize that  I've been riding along the levy for a really, really long time, so I turn around and head back home on Magazine. All and all it was a great beginning to a non-Thanksgiving.








2pm....Back home finally. Now, I am going to hop into my Jacuzzi tub and take a long, hot soak. I just did TWENTY MILES with LaDonna and my legs are wobbling.

(My actual route, mapped out using a weird website that put stupid flags
where ever I clicked the mouse, but you get the idea at least)