New Orleans is full of surprises. Whether it's the drag queens, voodoo, and brass bands; the roast beef po´ boys au jus, alligator cheesecake, and beignet pastries; or just the wild twenty-four-hour party, the city never fails to amaze. Even after the wrath of Katrina, the largest natural disaster to hit the United States, New Orleans has proclaimed that it will not die - government be damned! It will continue to incite the riotous culture, food and music unique to its Creole roots. As a Louisiana girl, I'm proud of that.
When I arrived back in my native land from a three-year-stint in Mexico, there was only one thing to do. After eating five pounds of boiled crawfish and corn-on-the-cob, I went straight to the French Quarter and bought a magenta wig. That's right. When you feel it coming, you might as well embrace it. Fifi Mahoney's on Royal Street has more wigs than the Queen of England has ugly hats. In front of its fifties-style Hollywood mirror, the magic takes place. Starting with a wig cap that bears an uncanny resemblance to a condom, all real hair disappears, transforming you into the party animal you will embody, after prolonged hours in that filthy city's kinky downtown.
