The hottest night in New Orleans
Saturday morning I was forced to work by the boss (that is another rant entirely that I will save for another day), and that afternoon/evening I picked up Pete and Mom, and we rushed down to New Orleans to meet up with my Princess Aunt Sari (pronounced Sarah), her husband and best friends, to take a walking Ghost Tour in the French Quarter. I don't know the temperature of the night, but it felt like 118 degrees. It must have been 94 with 110% humidity. Being outside felt like you were wrapped tightly in a wet, hot washcloth. According to my Princess Aunt Sari, sweat dripped down our backs "into the crack of (our) butt(s)!"
To that above comment, Pete replied, "I thought this tour wasn't supposed to be scary!"
It wasn't scary, except for the thought that we were all going to collapse from heat exhaustion. It was an entertaining tour, performed by a French dude named Pierre who picked on Pete for being the drunkard of the group (he drank two hurricanes while we walked), and who didn't seem to get Pete's Euro 2004 reference. I do recommend going on such a tour - but do it in January, NOT June. Normally September is the hottest month of the year for down here, but that was most possibly the hottest night I've ever felt in New Orleans. I just want to put that on the record. New Orleans was named the third sweatiest city in the country just recently, but I think that night it was THE sweatiest.
More later on the unpleasant job. I don't feel like bringing y'all down.
Saturday morning I was forced to work by the boss (that is another rant entirely that I will save for another day), and that afternoon/evening I picked up Pete and Mom, and we rushed down to New Orleans to meet up with my Princess Aunt Sari (pronounced Sarah), her husband and best friends, to take a walking Ghost Tour in the French Quarter. I don't know the temperature of the night, but it felt like 118 degrees. It must have been 94 with 110% humidity. Being outside felt like you were wrapped tightly in a wet, hot washcloth. According to my Princess Aunt Sari, sweat dripped down our backs "into the crack of (our) butt(s)!"
To that above comment, Pete replied, "I thought this tour wasn't supposed to be scary!"
It wasn't scary, except for the thought that we were all going to collapse from heat exhaustion. It was an entertaining tour, performed by a French dude named Pierre who picked on Pete for being the drunkard of the group (he drank two hurricanes while we walked), and who didn't seem to get Pete's Euro 2004 reference. I do recommend going on such a tour - but do it in January, NOT June. Normally September is the hottest month of the year for down here, but that was most possibly the hottest night I've ever felt in New Orleans. I just want to put that on the record. New Orleans was named the third sweatiest city in the country just recently, but I think that night it was THE sweatiest.
More later on the unpleasant job. I don't feel like bringing y'all down.
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