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The Love Affair Continues (Day 46) – New Orleans, LA & Abita Springs, LA | We're Not There Yet

We woke up in the morning with an Easter-morning kind of feeling in our stomachs. We had plans to head across the ridiculously long Lake Pontchartrain Causeway to the adorable town of Abita Springs. Not only is Abita Springs home to our new favorite beer, Abita, but we happened to time our visit to coincide with the Abita Springs Annual Bike Festival. Bordelon was worried that we might be so bike-saturated that the idea of wandering around and looking at bikes might not appeal. We assured her that we would wander around and look at just about anything as long as there is beer involved.

Our bikes are cooler…..

Abita Monster!

We got in on one of the mid-afternoon tours at the Abita brewery, which, once again, allowed us to pour our own samples. We made ‘Golden Retrievers’ by mixing Turbodog and Abita Golden and pretended to listen to the guide as he walked us through the brewing process, but were more entranced by our little blue foot covers. To be fair, the large size of the group didn’t allow for those of us in the back to hear the spiel. Luckily for us, we had recently been schooled by our wonderful hosts Dan and Amy of Mobile, on the basics of beer-making and felt like we had a pretty good handle on what was going on. We had a bite to eat at Abita’s brewpub- surprise, surprise, more po’ boys- then made our way back to Bordelon’s place to recover for our big night out.

Self-Serve Sampling


Even though we, at 30 years old, consider ourselves grown past our ‘drink til (s)he’s cute’ days, we couldn’t not have a spin on the streets of the French Quarter. Things started out civilized enough; we had proper (read: expensive) cocktails at the Carousel Bar in the posh Hotel Monteleone. The bar slowly revolves around a circular bar in the middle of the room. It sounds kitschy, but is actually pretty spectacular and very elegant. Too elegant for the likes of us. We made a beeline for bright green drinks called ‘Hand Grenades’ that come adorned with little plastic grenades (who makes these??) and a swirly straw. We were given ‘I Heart Hand Grenade” buttons when we, presumably, showed proper enthusiasm for the drink.

Where bad ideas begin

All downhill from here….

Keeping an eye on things

I’ll spare my mother the details of the night, but let it suffice to say that we packed several weekend’s worth of French Quarter nightlife into one late night. And now we never have to go back again. Highlights include the Dueling Pianos bar (highly recommended), dancing to live music on Frenchman Street, and making friends with a guy named Ogre who was in town for a scooter festival.

At least they’re honest

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