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A Bad Liver and a Broken Heart in New Orleans
 
A BAD LIVER AND A BROKEN HEART IN NEW ORLEANS Submit a Tale here | More Tales
I hopped a freight train out of Detroit all the way to Bermingham, Alabama and couldn't believe my American journey could get better. I shared a boxcar with the quiet ghosts of the depression and a bottle of Old Crow. In Bermingham, I met a madman on his way to the Cresent City and loaded up on good food from the Mission across from the bus station. I was in high spirits and so I joined the kid. Soon we were making merry with a couple of German girls, it seemed we were all headed for the India House Hostel on South Lopez St. I had been there briefly a couple of years before.

Well before any of us could determine why or why not, a motley crew of vagabonds from around the world gathered in this wildlife park of a hostel killing each other with stories, lies, drinking bouts and more fresh mayhem! The presence of 3 Irish guys and a girl, a Belgian, 3 Brits and the German girls kept the drinking at maximum pace. A giant Swede, an irate Iranian and 2 beautiful Vietmanese girls kept the action flowing. A couple of Aussies, with the most beaten down van I've seen in the States, roared all night long every night, like the dingos they were!!

Of course it wasn't just decadence, N.O.had a lot to offer and I made sure I was stained for life with the smell of Jambalaya and the Mississippi. 3 weeks went by and I was in love with a stripper from Bourbon St [not that she would remember my name!] I had made friends for life and in the world of free travel and hostelling, thats a rarity. The beer machine was empty, the Belgian and the Germans were moving on, the Brits were going home and the beautiful Vietmanese, who had trawled the streets and bayous with me, were gone.....and what ever happened to the cute girl who played the oddest little stringed instrument?

The rest of my travelling in the south was pretty wild but those burning days at India house.......better than a pint of beer in the Gobi desert!