Day Three: Jambalaya!


Here I am the night before, on a balcony overlooking Bourbon Street, unaware of the yuckiness that would befall the poor Robeau the next day.

Here's the view, isn't that nice?

You see, this?

It should have come with a skull and crossbones on it. That's right. Food poisoning. Eeeeewwww.

The Robeau, who never gets sick, was a total trooper and cleaned up all of his own mess, but I think he should have called these guys:

Needless to say, that morning's plans were a bust. We decided to head to the Jazz Fest early in the afternoon since Terence Blanchard and Herbie Hancock, the two acts we were most excited about seeing were playing that afternoon. The fare grounds where the fest take place had been completely flooded during Katrina, and you could see some of the damage to the neighbourhood on the way in.

The scene at Jazz Fest:

Between our late arrival, the Robeau's poisoning and the wind whipping dirt off the race track into my face the fest was a bust. It was great to see such a big crowd of people there, partying and having fun. It was inspiring to see that all of these talented musicians (some of them even jazz musicians - natch!) had come to support New Orleans in her time of need. It was great. But it wasn't for us. I consoled myself with the thought of Terence in a club setting later that night and we headed back to the hotel.

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