New Orleans. Where do I even begin? These business trips to AAJ conventions are so full of education, networking, socializing and partying that when I finally get to the end of it, I look back at a whirlwind of events and have to work at teasing out the various things I’ve done and all the incredible trial lawyers I’ve met.
The first thing worth mentioning is simply that I had the distinct pleasure of getting out of the exhausting Boston cold and into the warm embrace of a Louisiana winter. On two mornings, I walked around in the sunshine enjoying the 65 degree days without a coat on. As I sat by the riverfront, I watched the ships cruise by soundlessly and made friends with a homeless veteran. Seems everyone down south is friendlier than in New England.
Conventions are tiring, though. And as you bounce around from reception to reception, party to party and lunch date to lunch date, it’s easy to get lost in your own fatigue. This is only compounded when you’re in New Orleans and have no choice but to stay out until an ungodly hour.
As you can imagine, trying to keep vegan in New Orleans is next to impossible, especially with pralines around every corner! This particular southern delicacy has eluded me my entire life. When I picked up my first praline at a New Orleans cooking school, and took that first bite, it stopped me dead in my tracks. Why haven’t I been eating butter again?? Oh, right right, it’s not “healthy.” That didn’t stop me. The pralines were incredible. Worth it.
After the inevitable guilt monster came crashing down on me after gorging on pralines, in a serendipitous coincidence I overheard another vegetable-eater getting a recommendation for a vegan restaurant in the elevator. Joy! It was right around the corner from my hotel! Green goddess. You can see here I proceeded to gorge myself on pomegranate-beet hummus and tofu bahn-mi.
I really don’t do moderation…ever. Maybe New Orleans actually fits my personality. And maybe it’s best I stay away from a city that thrives on excesses of every type.
After five days away, I was so happy to come home. And even happier to discover that at least one person was equally enthusiastic about my return:
And finally, this week was capped off with an unforgettable trip to the floor of the Boston Garden (yes, I still call it the Garden and I always will) with the Massachusetts Bar Association. Rajon Rondo was shooting and stretching mere feet from me and Walter McCarty was taking free throws, my closest brush with athletic superstardom to date.
Happy Valentine’s Day!