Life can be stressful, even in the best of times. But if its success that makes the pace so unforgiving, its hard to complain about a free trip to New Orleans.

Less than 4 hours sleep and i was extremely jittery in the morning getting ready for my 7am flight, even before the coffee. i flailed and flumbled in my exhaustion and early-morning haze, barely managing to clip my keys and bottle opener to my backpack as i grabbed my gear for the shuttle to the airport. These are 2 important things not to lose track of in New Orleans, and it exhausted me menatally do deal with such responsibility after so little sleep. then i ran into a guy on the van i vaguely knew from work 2 years ago, then getting off the van i ran into a girl i vaguely knew from ultimate 2 years ago. then i ran into the mass of humanity everpresent at the SW security gate at Sky Harbor. This was all to much stress for me so early in the morning after so much stress working to get away for a few days. Booking Sam to babysit overnight for G (a first for all involved), packing, tieing up the chaos at work. So i went around the corner, ie to the next set of gates, to US Airways to slip through the short security line and avoid the stress. No worries…I was about to have 2 days to cram as much etouffee and Turbo Dogs down my throat as humanly possible. The fat guy at the TSA started asking me where i was going – New Orleans, no Dallas first, shit – and then why i was getting on at US Airways instead of Southwest. ummm…cause there is no line, and I really don’t mind walking if it lets me avoid, yknow, stress. He seemed bitter, like most US Airways employees.

then i went in to the ladies room, thinking it was the men’s room, and was so relaxed and sleepy i did not notice until on the way out a woman saw me and thought she was in the wrong room. Wow, did not occur to me. does that say women are less confrontational about where they pee? Clearly my New Orleans mood was already on.

we finally took off and flew out over the McDowells and i could just make out the Sunrise trail. that was cool – i’ve never quite figured out from the view of the mtns where Sunrise is. I first had to triangulate on 124th St. and Hidden Hils. Work on the plane, finish a book, and then before we knew it the Albuquerque airport, the ghetto bus is filling up and i pull my shit off the middle seat after those are getting plucked, and the dude in the aisle goes “is this open” and the woman on the end actually goes ” well, um, i guess so.” What do you mean “you guess so?” you had to be there, she actually didn t want to commit to her final answer. A few bloody mary’s took the edge off things. SouthWest business class includes drink tickets when you print out your boarding pass, but nothing stops you from xerox’ing the tickets, so armed with 4 I was prepared to enjoy my beverages and be a polite passenger.

EVENTUALLY arriving to my hotel ~3:30, then as soon as possible it was off on a walk to the Quater! Stopped for the essentials: sunscreen, eyedrops, and beer.

The Quarter is a fun walk when there is nowhere to be and a backpack full of beer. And it actually appears to be somewhat bike friendly, as I’ve seen gobs of bikers working their way down the streets.

One guy was locking up at what was obvisouly his work, and I almost offered him some $$ to rent for an hour, but urban riding requires 2 hands, and what would i do with my beer? So i walked,
and I took photos. I started down Bourbon street, which is what it is, but between then shitty bars and shitty strip joints and 1st beer and daylight, all i could do was smell the waft of piss and puke and shit and and beat-down strippers. Not like I remember from my last Mardi Gras. Maybe I’d walk it on the way home.

Moving through the Quater to Royale Street and things were much more copasetic. I meandered for a
few hours, and eventually camped out on a curb listening to a fun live band that mixed jazz, reggae, rap and some flutes. I got drunker, and more melancholy missing G and even more missing B. there are women everywhere in the Quarter and they all look good, be it the beer goggles or the N’awlins lubricant. The curb I am sitting on and writing from offers a perfect view of asses.

Eventually after many beers and much wandering I ended up at Coop’s Place based on my sister’s recommendation. I was getting pretty drunk and pretty hungry, so anyting sounded good, especially a suggestion. It was perfect. A loud, casual rock bar. I ordered the Jambalya Supreme, which came out almost instantaneously and had clearly been scraped from the bottom of the pot. Whatever. It was still good, at least to my untrained palate. They played Aerosmith, they played the Stones, they had wireless internet. what more could i want? a few Abita Purple Haze’s.

The night wound down and I walked up to my hotel just as two of my coworkers were arriving, poor choosing on their part if you ask me.

The next day we got up at 8 to head to the JazzFest, but realized breakfast and a nap were still feasible since we didn’t have to be there til darn near 11. Other than the dehydration and direct sun, i had no complaints. Nina and I were the only ones to bring hats, and I the only one to buy sunscreen. weird, shoulda suggestedd it to everyone. But i did worry that my 40oz of water would soon be gone, and for the ~3 hrs we worked watching the kiosks debut i was hot and tired and had some fabulous butt-crack sweat developing.

The kiosks were doing fabulously, knocking out sales and willcalls faster than tellers. We found a few bugs and a few usability erros, but mostly was a great time watching our baby in action. One of the developers Kevin who wrote the UI just had a blast talking to the crowd and getting their opinions, and i have to say it was cool to watch. Software is business, but it is creative, and its great to be on project where you and yoru teammates really take pride in what your build.

We took a lunch break, and while overpriced and long lines there is food everywhere at JazzFest. So much of it is so good and looks so good as people are walking by you. The trick is finding the lines from which the food that looks the best actually originates, which is no small feat. Lunch accidentally became a poyboy with shrimp, not bad, but i could have done so much better.

Back to the kiosk, a few patterns we identified in the problems, some notes regarding log messages we need to check. Its always neat to watch when we turn around fixes and the team hums along in good order – you see a problem, we all hit it hard and own our shit, and thousands of something-goers are happy again. But seeing it up close was becoming cooler and cooler the longer it happened. I could see our team knocking all this out in a day or 2 and imagine the improvements! In fact, mid-week the next week that is exactly what happened in the space of one day (and night) we fixed 50% of the total errors we were getting which was 10% of users. One night – 5% improvement, that sounds small but it is huge.

This good feeling about my work led right in to us getting cut loose for the day. Kevin, his friend, Nina, Dave and I split off and walked about the Jazzfest. It was stages and arts and crafts and beer tents and food. We eventually settled in on a spot on the lawn near the main stage to see Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. It was great, crowded, but great. One cool thing about JazzFest is it does not seem like so many other concerts with their posing and their mosh pits — this was like a giant picnic where everyone was out ot have a good time. Hence, the people’s whose fold-up chairs we were sitting in did not get mad when they showed back up to see us sitting in them.

But it was crowded, and we could barely see the stage and had to watch most of the concert through the monitors. Robert Plant sounds great, but looks awfult. Still it was so cool to hear him play old songs like Black Dog and new songs in the same set. He has always moved forward, and you can see that in his works for almost 40 years now. I’ve been lisenting to Led Zeppelin 4 and his newest Enchanter for 2 straight weeks.

After Robert Plant, Sheryl Crow was due on the main stage. It was just me and Nina by then, and she wanted to see Ozomatli. I had one of their albums Street Signs and liked it a lot, and was tired of the crowds, so off we went. It turned out to be a much better call. Easy beer, easy port-o-lets, easy food (seafood-stuffed mushrooms…yummy), and a great vibe where everyone was dancing and cheering and smoking big fat blunts 10 feet from the New Orleans cops. I wanted a hit so bad, it was the first contact high i’ve gotten since going to see Bob Dylan at the Spectrum in Philadelphia my junior year in high school.

A $10 ride on a school bus dropped us back at canal street and a 15 block walk from our hotel. I levelled with Nina, something I try to avoid with co-workers: we needed walking beers, and i needed to buy a gift for G. It was cute, it had frogs, and they squeaked, and it cost me $12!!!! I’d show my c@#k any day for $12!!!!

We ate a shwanky dinner at Commander’s Palace

It is a 5-star restaurant, the likes of which i have never eaten and will likely never eat again. The service was impeccable, the food was exquisite, the ambience was divine. Ifelt so dirty just being there. I had Turtle Soup that exhumed a delicious dirty meat flavor in every sip, Sheep’s Head – which apparently is an actual fish – and it tasted beautiful, and a bread pudding that was air wrapped in sweet dough, all while sipping Wild Turkey on the rocks.

The next day i got up just late enough to catch breakfast and drink the last of my Turbo Dogs and Dixie’s Blackened Voodoos before my flight. Breakfast, even biscuits and gravy made out of yesterday’s sausage, was delicious. A mellow flight where I used the rest of my drink tickets and watched Into the Wild again and read Do The Right Thing by SouthWests’s own James Parker. Back at 4, Sam bolted, Beckie was in Big Sur for 2 more days. Barely a break to recover from my hangover before diving full-fledged into my tinyHuman.

I like the double-fisted, New Orleans spirit she exhibits.