Last night (ok, 5:15 this morning) I was sitting in Lafitte’s talking to the new bartender when all of a sudden he stops me mid-sentence and points out the front door.

He was, of course, pointing towards the completely buck-assed neckid woman casually walking down Bourbon street. She was probably in her mid-twenties, she had a nice body and didn’t seem intoxicated or anything. There was nothing out of the ordinary except that you know, she was completely naked. I mean not a stitch of clothing; no shoes even.

Not even a hat.

Only in New Orleans.