Voodoo Fest, a half marathon to benefit the Children's Hospital, and Halloween? How could I NOT do a race in New Orleans with all of those temptations? Considering it had only been two weeks since my last half there wasn't any training for this bad boy. I would just show up, run, and then go party down in the Crescent City.
Mistake #1. Accepting the world's strongest margarita while picking up my race packet.
Mistake #2. Helping consume a 100oz beer 10 minutes later.
Mistake #3. Forgetting the Immodium.
Mistake #4. Not drinking enough water to counter the alcohol from the night before.
Mistake #5. Dancing with strangers in the street deducts from your finish time.
If you've been to New Orleans you don't need a description. We started at the Convention Center, ran through downtown, through the garden district to the Audobon Zoo, to the turn around and then back again. It was disappointing to see that very few racers were in costume. There were three jazz bands along the route, all passing out beer. These musicians had recruited the help of several Tulane students in starting the street party so as we ran by you couldn't help but dance a few steps. For me the highlight was a house close to the zoo that was decked out with at least 20 full sized skeletons, each one posed carefully with a clever sign. I went back after the race to pose with "Murder Miss Tree", a skeleton hanging from a huge oak tree wearing an 80's prom dress.
Finish Time: 2:13:40
After watching the Auburn game at Cooter Brown's, home of the best onion rings east of the Mississippi (and I don't even like onion rings), we headed back to the hotel to get dressed up for Halloween. Considering nothing is trashy when it happens in New Orleans, I decided to go as Little Red Riding 'Ho. Matt even agreed to go as the Big Bad Wolf, at the last minute deciding to be the wolf dressed as Grandma. We hit Bourbon Street and headed straight for the Grenades. Shortly after that I got into a near fight with some girls straight out of Jersey Shore, funny how liquor = immediate fighting response. We danced the night away until my legs could barely hold me up, then in a moment of total misjudgment took my platform wedges off and walked home in nothing but fishnets. Ahhhhh, classy.
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