That dinner punctuated the end of a particularly grueling week during which I was struggling to keep up with my regular work while preparing for a presentation I was scheduled to give at the conference. On top of all the other stressors nearly crushing me under their combined weight, the trip to New Orleans was extremely stressful; first, I nearly missed my flight (it got to the point they had to announce my name over the intercom and threaten to take off without me—that’s how close it was), but thankfully, I did make it to Louis Armstrong Airport, only to find that this city apparently doesn’t want visitors to go downtown. Besides a public bus that runs every 1-1.5 hours, the only other option is to take a taxi/Uber. I literally cannot recall ever having been to a less tourist-friendly city. Even LA (which I would never recommend tourists to waste their time and money visiting) has the “Flyaway bus”; a $10 ride that takes travelers from the airport to Union Station and a few other central locations in and around the city. But when you visit NOLA, I guess you’re supposed to just have a couple of Bloody Marys at one of the airport bars, then, go home. Like, just hop onto another plane and leave.

But, as much as I felt like leaving that city 10 minutes after my plane landed, I had promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. Since it was too early to check in at my hotel anyway, I decided to save a few bucks and wait for the bus. My plane had arrived a little after 1 pm, and I finally got to my hotel right at 4 pm, just in time to check in. Perfect.

And things just got more stressful from there. I made a last-minute effort to prepare my speech and visual aid, only to be betrayed by my own laptop when the PowerPoint saved on it refused to project onto the big screen during my presentation.

All of this to say, that by the time we got to Vyoone’s following that disappointing mess of a presentation, I was ready for a drink. Like, so ready. Specifically, a drink with alcohol in it. I eagerly scanned the restaurant’s cocktail list, and of the eight drinks listed, I chose the “Parisian Sunset.” The listed ingredients sounded refreshing enough: cucumber vodka, Lillet Blanc (that was the ingredient I had to ask our server about. According to Google, it’s a “French aperitif wine”), grapefruit juice, Jamaican jerk bitters. As a matter of fact, it was refreshing, in the same way that any glass of diluted juice would be refreshing and thirst-quenching. I downed it quickly so the melting ice cubes wouldn’t have the chance to dilute the juice even more. It was fine, though. There couldn’t have been more than one drop of vodka in that cocktail. Was I able to taste the Lillet Blanc? I’m trying to remember, but honestly, that “Parisian Sunset” was so forgettable and nondescript that the mind wanders when attempting to recall its elusive qualities…  

Instead, how about I tell you about the amazing Bloody Marys I had in New Orleans? I didn’t try that drink at Vyoone’s, which was probably a missed opportunity, but the next evening, on the recommendation of my Lyft driver, I asked for a Bloody Mary at another restaurant (where the drink was called “Mother of Mary” and came with a fried oyster kebab), and it was SO GOOD. I’ve never had a Bloody Mary that delicious before. The Lyft driver explained that in Louisiana, they don’t make the drink with just tomato juice. I don’t know what they use—it’s not Clamato either—but anyway, the result is freakin’ awesome. Is it V8? I wish I could find such inspired use of tomato/V8 juice and vodka in LA. I disliked NOLA and can’t imagine ever going back there again voluntarily, but, if I ever do go back, it’ll be entirely for the Bloody Marys. I’ll just fly there, have a couple of those delicious cocktails at the airport, and hop onto the next plane back.