I first visited New Orleans on Halloween of 2001 or 2002 (can’t remember, if that doesn’t tell you how much fun I had, I don’t know what does).
A good friend from high school who is originally from Louisiana and was attending college at LSU, so I went to visit him and we drove over to NOLA and went to a Widespread Panic concert (remember I told you what a hippy I used to be) and then went out to Bourbon street afterwards. My friend ended up getting his car stolen that night, so we stayed the night and then the next morning visited the NOLA police department to report the car stolen.
Since it was Halloween and we were planning on driving home that same night, all we had to wear the next day were our costumes. My friend was dressed as Superman, but all his costume consisted of was blue tights and a red cape. I was wearing this ridiculous, huge, pink dress because I thought it would be really funny/cool to be “LOVE,” so I made this dress and it had the word LOVE spelled out in the front with flowers hot glued to it. Don’t even ask.
But what made me fall in love with New Orleans was that walking into the police station, in our costumes, the day after Halloween, and around down town later that day, no one even batted an eye at us. Like it was totally normal and acceptable to be walking around in costumes for no reason.