I hate Bourbon Street, but I love New Orleans.

While this week will be filled with work, meals still have to be eaten at some time and I’ve got my list ready.

It starts with Deanie’s and ends with K-Paul’s. There are several mouthwatering stops in between.

I haven’t always liked this city, but it took me changing and understanding that this city is what this city is.

The first time I came here I was just out of basic training and stationed at Keesler Air Force Base, where we had weekends off from Air Traffic Control school.

I came once, walked around, laughed at some of the sights and got back to Biloxi as fast as  possible.

When I was married we came a few times. Whitney was enamored with the mannequin’s legs on a mechanical swing that swung back and forth from a club (it would be  a stretch to call it a gentleman’s club) to Bourbon Street and back.

I almost had a heart attack when she tried to peek inside.

I covered a few events here over the years too, but it wasn’t until 2002 when I was stressing out about my divorce that a buddy handed me the keys to an office/apartment in the French Quarter and told me to get out of town for a few days that I began to appreciate the Big Easy.

I wondered up and down Royal Street. Loitered in Jackson Square. Picked my way through the outdoor market. Shopped at Central Grocery and ate all the wonderful, crazy-named foods I could in 72 hours.

Where people once seemed harsh, they seemed hard working. Where they seemed aloof, they seemed guarded.

On sure, you can get in trouble here, but that goes for any big city.

If I get in any trouble it will have to find me because I’m sure not looking for it.

The closest I’ll get to Bourbon Street is when I cross it on the way to Deanie’s and since I just has back surgery, I might be in a taxi.

I love this city. But I’m glad there is work to do because eight days in any city but home is a long time for this camper.

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