Greetings from the Vieux Carre in N’awlins, or in English, The French Quarter in New Orleans. Four-day business pleasure trip with some overindulgence on the side (actually, continually). You cannot stay in the French Quarter and not eat well…unless you never leave your hotel room, and even then, room service is killer. We ate at the Royal Cafe on Royal Street, and dined on the second level balcony overlooking the crazies roaming the street below. The French Quarter is at it’s most fascinating around dusk when it truly comes alive as people seem to appear out of nowhere in all shapes, sizes, fantasies, and intent. A true melting pot of lost souls. The tourists are thick as mosquitoes (in quantity…I don’t know any of them well enough to comment on their mental abilities…) and the locals seem to ignore them for the most part (the locals that live, not work, here). Since today was a travel day, we only wandered around a little bit, and tomorrow we’ll hit the cobblestones and see what kind of mischief we can get into, although one shouldn’t think that out loud here in The Big Easy (a name I’m told the locals hate, but Hollywood loved), who’s history is replete with the worst that can happen in dense urban settings. For all it’s aged, European-like charm, New Orleans has a varied past that belies its touristy image. More tomorrow!