Well, when I left New Orleans for my 2 day bus ride back to Vegas I wasn’t expecting anything too much apart from catching up on sleep. And catching up on sleep I did do. It was fabulous. I also got to experience Route 66 – from the front of a bus.
I’ve noticed that I’ve waxed lyrical about a lot of serious topics lately and I thought I would lighten the mood by taking y’all back to New Orleans and the rest of my time there.
So after I got chased away by the guy that wouldn’t take no for an answer in McDonald’s I headed off to find the river. I wanted to read my book in peace by the water. I’d missed being by the water by this stage. Living in Sydney means that I’m near the water all the time and at the beach at least once a week. Having gone nearly 2 weeks without seeing water was making me anxious.
I wandered over and started to read my book for a few hours. At which point I figured most the shops would be open and I should go and replace that phone I lost while being a drunken wench in Austin.
As I was walking back from the riverside I walked through Jackson Square. And you know, Jackson Square is just beautiful. The park in the middle would become my go to place to read in the mornings with my cup of coffee before the heat got so oppressive. The one thing about NOLA that I love? The history. It seeps into your bones as you are wondering around. There are tales of pirates, vampires and witches all over. Ann Rice might have expressed the beauty of New Orleans a lot better than I am.
After the failed “date” with the man who baptised me in his mouth after I told him I won’t suck his dick, I was starting to think that Austin was possibly a place I didn’t want to extend my stay in. But then figured I wasn’t giving the town enough of a chance. Just because there was one douchebag didn’t mean that there were more. How many dingbats could I possibly encounter as a single woman in Austin after all?
Not that many it turns out – feel free to read about my lovely trip here.
But what this post is about is how I left Austin with some new ink.
You see I was walking down the street (not as gracefully as I usually do after day 2 of drinking myself silly with drag queens) and I had one of those thought bubbles that light up above your head and flash like a police vehicle.
I wanted a new tattoo. It was time. It had been a long while since my last one and I never got around to gifting myself for my 30th with one. So I jumped on the lappy and looked up tattoo parlours on Yelp. One that came up with for Sailors Grave Ink along 6th. I hear they’ve since moved.