It's fall; the opposite end of the calendar from Mardi Gras and the time when the summer swelter eases up a bit. But even in October, New Orleans is hot and sticky, both meteorologically and allegorically. The temperature climbs into the upper 80s, but in the Bayou that translates to about 150 on the discomfort scale. An afternoon shower doesn't even cool things off since the humidity is about 200% anyway.

Allegorically, I can only say that what ever form of trouble you may have a desire to find, New Orleans will certainly oblige you. The heat; the sultry, funky music all around; the mouthwatering food and ubiquitous drink; the utter sensuality of it all serves to seduce you into indulgence.

When I say "you" I mean you. Not me. I would never get into any sort of trouble. Ever.

The heart, soul, and mojo of New Orleans resides in the French Quarter {pic}. You could easily spend three days or so exploring the entire area. You need only spend a couple hours on Bourbon Street (the center of the French Quarter) to end up drunk, deaf, and broke. Remember, that's you, not me. So let's start with Bourbon Street since I flew in on Friday afternoon and that's where I was Friday by night.

Bourbon Street is insane and disgusting. I mean that in a good way. You know those videos of Mardi Gras, with what must be tens of thousands of people swarming in the street, drinking and carousing? That's just a typical Friday night on Bourbon Street. I know it is an order of magnitude busier during Mardi Gras, but I can't imagine how they can squeeze in any more people. Bourbon Street is all debauchery all the time. Hustler magazine maintains two strip clubs there, one called "Barely Legal". Live sex acts, transvestites, assorted pleasure devices are openly advertised. Folks fill the balconies tossing beads to passing girls as rewards for a flash, either front or rear view.

Let's talk briefly about establishments that are hyper-ironically referred to as Gentlemen's Clubs. I have been in one of these places exactly three times in my life (once by accident) and I have to say they seem pretty harmless. In none of my visits did I see anyone remotely misbehaving (perhaps that's what happens in the VIP suites) which makes me suspect there is nothing more to all this than a normal bar/night club where there just happen to be topless women dancing. Although 'dancing' is a bit generous; they do little more than slink and vamp up and down the stage. Men (and women) in seats next to the stage slip dollar bills into their g-strings and in return they get to nuzzle breasts. Is this degrading to women? Probably only in the sense that these clowns are only flashing singles. I paid $7.50 for a Marker's Mark and let the waitress keep the change from a ten. Is letting a strange man nuzzle your breasts worth less than bringing him a drink? Apparently.

Please understand, I am fundamentally in favor of scantily clad women, and if someone were to suggest it's nice to sit and have a drink and look at the pretty young girls prancing around in various stages of undress I would be in complete agreement. But I don't see the attraction of the breast nuzzling or lap-dancing. I suppose the guys who enjoy this are able to fool themselves into thinking the girl is actually attracted to them, but to me, the stupidest thing a man can say is "Gee, I think that stripper really likes me." Or maybe it's just the flesh they are after and the circumstances don't matter to them, but really, some things just don't count if you pay for them. It's like your mom paying the local kids to play with you.

That's all I have to say about Gentleman's Clubs.

Music floods out into Bourbon Street through the open doors and windows of the innumerable bars. A majority of it is just your standard nasty cover band fodder, but there are exceptions. There is at least one bar that maintains a traditional New Orleans jazz band, but I don't remember the name of it. And there was one insanely high-energy Zydeco band that was so good I made a mental note to check for recordings, and naturally I forgot the name of the band, and I forgot which bar they were in so I couldn't call and ask (they all look the same after a while). I know what you're thinking -- I was too drunk to remember. No, I was not. I was just very tired by the time I got back to the hotel and hit the sack without writing it down and then I couldn't remember the next day. I really wasn't drunk; you must be thinking of you again. (I was able to locate the jazz bar via Google: Maison Bourbon. I still can't find the Zydeco band.)

The hotel I returned to was the International House. An interesting place. It's one of those boutique hotels that I find so curious. They do a good job of combining style and luxury with informality. Service was flawless, but without any stuffiness. My first night they stuck me in room 1107 and apologized for having to do so before I even saw it. A small room, with no window and a shower that sprayed every direction but down. If it wasn't for the shower, it wouldn't have been too bad -- no window in New Orleans also means no street noise when you are trying to sleep. They assured me they would move me the next day and they did so. International House (I hate that name, it makes me think of IHOP) is a hip place, they leave an iBook out in the lobby for anyone who needs to connect to the web, and they have what looks to be a kickin' bar with lots of big comfy chairs, but I never went in; it was always packed -- clearly a hot spot for the in-crowd. All in all, good place to stay -- avoid room 1107, though.

Back to the French Quarter. There is much more to it than Bourbon Street. Royal Street is the home of most of the artsy and crafty galleries. Street performers abound{pic}. Decatur Street, close to the water, is more touristy. You will find great restaurants in every direction you look, often very busy. It took me three consecutive morning trips to Café Du Monde for the celebrated beignets before I could get a table (it's open 24/7, go at night to avoid the crowd). I sampled the famous Gumbo Ya-Ya at Mr. B's and was jostled by other folks waiting for my seat who wanted to do the same. Had crab cakes at Emeril Lagsse's NOLA and was lectured about the need to brine poultry before cooking by a crazy lady while she waited for my seat. And yet, I barely scratched the surface of the culinary delights in the French Quarter alone.

This is not to say there's not a lot of crap in the French Quarter. There is about a fifty-fifty balance of quality curiosity to contrived crap, which is better than most tourist destinations. For every t-shirt with an obnoxiously profane slogan, there is an interesting art gallery, or a genuine voodoo shop{pic} or Preservation Hall{pic}.

Preservation Hall started in the early '60s in response to the way modern jazz and rock and roll were overpowering traditional jazz in popularity. At Preservation Hall you will hear traditional New Orleans jazz, as played by Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton, and you won't hear anything else. It is essentially a shack. There are musicians in the band up front, room for about 30 people to sit in chairs around them, or on the floor, and room for maybe an extra 50 people to stand behind them. There is no food. There is no drink. It costs $5 to get in. Unless you are there right when it opens, you will only get standing room. Despite all that, there will likely be a long line to get in. The crowd is respectful, but upbeat. The band is serious, but good natured. If you are looking for a "genuine" New Orleans experience, this has the juice.

You could spend a long weekend without leaving the French Quarter, and I would have but for two things. I wanted to ride the streetcar and I wanted to play craps.

There are a couple of casinos nearby, but the closest and largest is Harrah's which is just a couple of blocks away from The Quarter. If you seen one casino, you've seen them all really. Endless rows of slots, strings of gaming tables for blackjack, roulette etc., a poker room, a couple of bars with video poker machines at every station. One thing they do not have is a sports book, which I found deeply annoying because I wanted to place some losing football bets, like I do in Vegas. Instead I played craps, a game I need to learn some more about. I made some of the more simple bets that I understood and came away in the red, so I found a blackjack table and won some of it back at a table of full of Chinese tourists who were making some iffy plays that always seemed to work out for them, all the while keeping one on the Red Sox/Yankees game, like everyone else in the country. It was strange to see TVs strategically placed throughout the casino instead of just in the bars. Not sure how well thought out that is.

Casinos are great places to spend time. I'm not talking about pouring money into slots until your butt is numb. Mostly I'm talking about blackjack and craps. Blackjack, when played by some fairly straightforward guidelines, and Craps, for certain bets and strategies, have minimal advantages for the house. I mean really close to 50/50. As long as you don't freak out if you get down a little, and if you never bet the farm, you can play these and just enjoy the experience and the fun of watching everyone else around you.

A streetcar to the Garden District seemed like another very New Orleans experience, at least that's what all the guidebooks said. The streetcar itself isn't all that special. There's nothing particularly wrong with it; just nothing all that special about the experience. It is a bus on rails -- not a particularly romantic to ride. It takes you from The Quarter, along St. Charles, through the Central Business District and uptown to the Garden District (it goes on further, but that's where I stopped).

The Central Business District is correctly named -- mostly businesses and high rises. It ends at Canal St., which is where The Quarter begins, so many hotels are located on the edge of the CBD and give ready access to the Quarter with being in the heart to of the hubbub (International House is one such hotel). Further Uptown along St. Charles there are pockets of restaurants and shops. It might be worth exploring, but it's really car territory. It's a good deal less centralized that The Quarter, so it's probably best to know where you want to go ahead of time.

The Garden District is an area filled primarily with magnificent old houses {pic1}{pic2}. It certainly stands in low-key contrast to The Quarter. Very lush, it's a housing architect's dream and it's not all museum pieces, people still live in many of these houses. The Garden District is for strolling and looking. In fact, there appears to be a serious industry of guided strolling and looking tours, judging from the number of groups I saw, including ones conversing in German and Chinese. There are a couple of spots where you can sit and chill over a snack.

I must say that wandering around looking at houses, however beautiful and steeped in history, is not normally my preferred activity. Of course, by this time, New Orleans had pretty much worn me out so I was grateful for the chance to relax and not feel like I was involved in some kind of dance of madness with the city. I plopped down at an outdoor café, 'neath the shade of some old growth foliage, with a copy of The Moviegoer (set right there in the Big Easy) and an apple fritter, and did chill right and proper for a good hour or so.

On my final morning I finally got into the aforementioned Café du Monde, which is fine -- tasty Beignets -- but not the experience all the guidebooks say (although it might have been if I drank coffee). A saunter through the French Market, an open air market with a combination of unique items and touristy stuff just like the shops; and a cab out to airport I was done. (Note how I scrupulously avoided Bourbon Street a second time.) Way too fast. I never hit the Warehouse district or Faubourg Marigny, I could have easily spent a couple of more days in New Orleans, even without any trips to the outskirts. Just means I have to go back. A couple hour flight -- I know my way around -- know where to stay -- I know what to see...

New Orleans was the last killer destination in the U.S. for me. There are plenty of places in the country I haven't been, but they are places like Seattle or Charleston, which, although they are no doubt interesting, are not gotta-see-before-I-die targets. In that sense, The Big Easy was bittersweet. The good news is that, now I can go back and be comfortable and efficient. In one of my earliest travel journals I mentioned that one of the reasons people go back to the same place regularly is that they know what they want to do and how they can do it. There is no wasted time learning your way around. Now I have that advantage in many of the prominent US travel destinations. Maybe it's time to go around a second time.

Hey! Did you notice: No travel rant. Whoa. Nope, It can't be me, it must be you.