I’ve spent plenty of time in New Orleans over the past year, but always gave Bourbon Street a wide berth to avoid the crowds and connect more with less-touristy parts of the city. But, this past weekend, I was on assignment shooting social content of fans during the Saints/Vikings game. There aren’t a ton of sports bars in the French Quarter, but Razoo’s on Bourbon Street turned out to be the only one I popped my head into that didn’t have a jazz band competing for fans’ attention inside.
Growing up in a conservative home, “Bourbon Street” was rarely used to denote the actual place, but was tossed around as a pejorative. “That person/place/thing looks like Bourbon Street.” It was a catch-all term around the house for anything deemed negative or immoral.
Older now, navigating this wide world for myself, I’ve finally had a chance to create my my own opinion of Bourbon Street. Is it crowded, smelly, cheapened by tourist pandering? Yes. Is it dominated by rubes who order alcohol by the yard and spend too much on cover charges for superficial pagan delights? Yes.
It also makes for one hell of a photo.