New Orleans, I Love You.
From rolling hills and honky-tonks of Tennessee, to booze soaked, brass pumping, wallet emptying streets of the Big Easy. We pilgrimaged for a week of insanity. In hope that if we “lost” ourselves, maybe we’d find something. The only thing we found were drugs from strangers, strip clubs, to-go booze and one-way roads tripping us up on our way home once the sun woke up. Home wasn’t a hotel or an “airbnb”. Home was a friend of a friend’s cousin’s girlfriend’s living room floor in sleeping bags in exchange for a case of beer and maybe a pack of smokes. But we couldn’t be any happier to be far from our comfort zones.