Every modern metropolis needs one. An urban playground within weekend driving distance, that is. Where what happens within the city limits stays within the city limits for all eternity. Well, except for the gift that keeps on giving. But it's not a jaunt of any consequence if you don't return with some sort of souvenir, right?
Los Angeles has Las Vegas. Detroit has Windsor. San Diego has Tijuana. Seattle has Vancouver. New York City has Atlantic City. And we Houstonians have New Orleans.
Gone are the days when we once left town and hit I-10 armed with itineraries, must-sees, hotel reservations, Lonely Planets and Rand McNallys. 'Cause who needs paper when you've got technology at your fingertips? Not Social Distortion, that's who. All you need is an iPhone and a full tank of gas to speedily get your boobs to those plastic beads. And everywhere in between. So to speak.
Before you pack, The Weather Channel's app will tell you if flashing or stashing those protruding body bits is on the weekend's agenda. And if you're gonna road trip it up right, by golly, get your paws on some beats! Remember when you made mixed tapes and, once that music medium was only cool to hipsters, mixed CDs? Way of the dodo, friends. Download the imeem or Pandora apps and jump in the car already. Although take note, soul sistah -- you only get 40 hours of free listening on Pandora, and then you gotta drop a few pennies to keep the party goin' strong.
When you finally sidle 'round to the French Quarter and you're stuck in Canal Street traffic, use AroundMe to peep out hotels, parking garages, and restaurants in the immediate area. Couple your foodie findings with the Citysearch app, with online reviews that'll let you be the arbiter of whether tenacious tourists are more tantalized by Felix's or Acme in the oyster-grubbin' arena (psst, it's Felix's, no matter what they say).
But buyer beware. Both AroundMe and Citysearch are dinosauric in detecting your whereabouts, and exact locations aren't their specialties. In a city where you're always either drunk or under a voodoo spell, that isn't quite the tits. So have your Google Maps app primed and ready for the dirty work of pinpointing.
Oh, Bourbon Street, Bourbon Street, and surrounding environs. You certainly are full of sights and sounds, aren't you? Like, what's that brilliant song gracing your ears at One Eyed Jack's? Shazam knows. Oh, and Dearest Lady Bourbon, are your "live sex shows" really "live" or really "sex"? SearchIt has an answer for everything, and even pulls results from pages that no longer exist in Internetland. D'oh.
And if all else fails? Add a feline to any photo with Cat Paint. 'Cause you can't leave New Orleans without seeing at least a little pussy.
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