Places to Go (Vacation) - Bourbon Street & A Broken Foot (New Olreans, LA)

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These are my best friends. I don't see them as often as I'd like. But when I do see them, we have fun.

I really don't think there's any better place for a girls' weekend than New Orleans, LA. Especially when you're edging 40. Because you can: drink outside in December, dance to a live band singing "Don't Stop Believing", and (miraculously) find yourselves some of the youngest women in the room. Vegas just can't give you that last part.

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Everything became fuzzy after the hurricanes (granted there were several margaritas before the hurricanes even began).

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Apparently we drank more.

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And more.

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And danced.

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Night two was much more mellow due to an ill-placed pothole colliding with my right foot (I actually fell in said pothole while checking my fitbit steps, oh the irony).

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After walking proved difficult, we ended up at the hotel bar, with its overpriced drinks and eclectic clientele.

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Wine numbs the pain.

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And if a stranger tells Allison she has big hair, as in "really big, like Texas, hair" . . .

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Then she will find a way to make it bigger.

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And bigger.

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So Saturday was sort of a bust. But after 4 hours in the New Orleans emergency room (not a place I'd recommend), they told me my foot was definitely broken, gave me a coolio boot, and sent me on my way.

Still a great weekend. And that says a lot.

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