Bourbon Street is a pretty amazing place. An endless stream of humanity flows past, checking out the bars and strip clubs and oyster bars and other places to take a load off and sip an Abita and suck down an oyster with some lemon juice. Loud music, mostly from cover bands, floods out into the night air. Most of the passersby have that bright alcoholic sheen and stumbling step, and many are clutching an outsized beer bottle or a daiquiri glass.
Coming from the buttoned-down, Bible-thumping Midwest, it’s a culture shock to be in a place where people flout open containers of alcohol and a fine restaurant can be found right next to a sleazy strip club.