So we had this slick plan this morning. We were going to get up early (at seven, before the city had slept off its hangover), go for a run to keep us from getting restless on our 9 hour drive to Austin today, then get out on the road early. All was going well until we stepped out the front door of our hotel and saw the streets crowded with men and women wearing white shirts and pants and red scarves. Beer flowed from kegs sets up on street corners. Many of the corners bars were open, and crowds formed to drink up before...the running of the bulls. Off in the distance we saw women clad in tight red and black clothing, wearing knee pads and helmets with elaborate horns on them. They were also wearing roller skates, cruising down the cracked streets. Apparently the roller bulls race through the streets, beating the matadors with wiffle ball bats. So off we ran, at 7:15 am, through the crowded streets, getting the strangest looks from the bulls and the matadors and the other people we passed. Why on earth would anyone be running on a morning like this?
The matadors were supposed to run right down Conti street in front of our hotel. But as they began to run (or, walk, really; there were a lot of them and most of them were really drunk) they turned down Dauphine Street, much to the surprise of the onlookers. Who knows where they will end up.
Maybe we'll get out of New Orleans today. But until then: Ole, Ole, Ole!