Our right heels hurt and we think its because of New Orleans

Tom and I both have a pain in our right heels. We blame New Orleans. I'd suggest our tribulations began because we were hanging with the locals three miles from our hotel. This is where all the cool people watch the Mardi Gras parades.

(This is the long version here, so just bear with me. Eventually I'll get to the point about why our heels hurt.)

The thing with Mardi Gras weekend, we discovered, is that taxi drivers are too smart to be on the clock when drunk-ass Mardi Gras strangers covered with glitter are on the move. There was not a cab to be found after about 7pm. And the Uber drivers had bailed even earlier. Also the parades run right down the street with the trolley, so they shut down the only mass transit in town. 

I say all this to say we got stranded three miles from our hotel. We decided to walk back after the last parade. At first we hoped to spot a taxi along the way, but this optimism quickly vanished. 

On the plus side, for at least a mile, we had a distraction. We got to plot the progress of a hella drunken bicycle rider on the other side of the street. This young man should get some kind of prize for pure uncut chaos on the sidewalk. It reminded me of the story Jo told about desperately trying to cross country ski home before the aquavit kicked in. Our cyclist started out pretty strong, mostly remaining upright if not going in a straight line. 

Ten minutes in, however, his blood cells bobbed around in 80 proof plasma. He was down more than he was up. We might have helped him, but it was like that Chumbawamba song... "I get knocked down, but I get up again, no one ever gonna keep me down..."

The kid managed to take a left after only several tries and the last we saw him, he was headed directly for the side of a building. Hopefully he made it home. 

Meanwhile, we hiked onward. Then came a soul crushing part near the end where we could basically see our hotel but were not allowed to cross the street due to the parade. We had to walk probably an extra third of a mile to find the sanctioned street crossing area. This might have caused us to just camp for the night on a pile of discarded beads had we been less stalwart in the face of adversity. 

The Mardi Gras parades were great though!!

The locals break out their cute children
as a sure fire trick to get the good throws.

Every parade "unit" rolls with its own portapotty. I'm sure its essential, it's a hella long parade.
Never saw anyone actually go in one, however.

Where the Wild Things are float.

It was like a 38,000 step day if you combined all the earlier steps with the after midnight steps. Not in sneakers, mind you. We are way too new york city for padded insoles. 

But now our heels hurt. So. You might think we learned something except we clearly didn't if you consider how far we walked around the Lower East Side yesterday with Wanda and Derek. In rain boots.