Warm Welcome to New Orleans

Its my second week in New Orleans, a city that greeted me with its favorite nickname “baby,” pot-holed roads, tree tethered pigs, blue jello shots in syringes, and a below sea level southern heat that gives a new understanding of the term “swamp-ass”.

Swimming through the hot wet air of new orleans with my bicycle as my fins, the 5 minute bike ride to class feels like swimming through a river of hot honey, so sickly sweet it reminds you that honey is just glorified bee vomit. There is no way to forget that, as there is no way to arrive at your destination without having a sweat stain appear somewhere on you; hopefully you have learned by now not to wear grey, which advertises your awkward sweating patterns, cute bras that will stain from being constantly soaked, structured pants threatening severe heat rash, or any makeup besides lipstick as it is the only thing that won’t leak a color palette down your face.

First few lessons down.

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