To say I was looking for the real New Orleans is perhaps an unfair statement, considering that Bourbon Street, despite all of its annoyances, is just as real as anything else in the Crescent City. But for music and culture, it just wasn't the New Orleans I was looking for.
Nevertheless, I soon found myself wandering under wrought-iron balconies holding something that consisted of one part rum to 60 parts sugar. You might call it a Hurricane, but that would be offensive to the original Hurricane, which is more like one part rum to only 20 parts sugar. Either way, they're awful. Which, of course, is why I had four.
Maybe five. Six at most.
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