By Popular Demand
Ok, now that I've been back from New Orleans for a day, had time to catch up on sleep (sort of), and spend a day away from work (kind of), I actually have a little time to tell the story. The abbreviated version has been on Cory's blog for days.
For those of you who didn't already know, I spent a little over a week in New Orleans, covering the Auburn Tigers, reporting live every day, and producing/reporting/anchoring a one-hour pre-game special that aired on our station. Fun, right? Not so much. About 90% of the time, it seriously sucked. I worked a couple of 18 hour days, when I got up, immediately started working, and only paused to take a shower and for room service. One day, I didn't even leave the hotel until 4pm, and that was to do my live shots from across the street. Then I went back to the hotel and didn't leave again until 4pm the next day.
But I digress. Jan (my mom) was still visiting from Michigan when I left, so Jan and Cory followed us down to New Orleans. I really didn't get to see much of either of them. The first night we were in town, the six of us (including Elizabeth, David and Eric from work) went down to Bourbon Street for dinner. We ate at the Cajun Cabin, a touristy, but very fun place. There was a Zydeco band playing (Mitch Cormier and the Can't Hardly Playboys), and we all took a turn up front playing with the band.
The next day, we worked until about 6pm, then headed out for dinner at the Gordon Biersch Brewery (if there's one in your town, I highly recommend it).
The day after that was New Year's Eve. We stopped in at the media party at the Top of the Dome lounge (Which was actually at the top of the Hyatt, the media hotel), then Jan and Cory and I tried to meet up with some friends for dinner. Problem was, we never found them. So we ended up at Copeland's Cheesecake Bistro for dinner, then headed back to the hotel. From there, we caught the bus to the French Quarter, then headed towards Jackson Square for the big New Year's Eve festivities.
It's at this point, I should probably tell you how horrible I looked. My feet were killing me from two days of wearing heels (probably only the seventh or eighth time all year I'd worn heels), but the only comfy shoes I'd bought were brown. So I was wearing brown loafers, black pants, a red shirt, and a black leather jacket. Now, I'm no fashion plate, but I know better than to wear brown with black. sigh. To make matters worse, it was raining. Actually, it was drizzling, and foggy, and humid, so I really wasn't looking my best. Of course, everyone else probably looked like drowned rats, too.
At some point, we stopped in a corner store, and Jan bought some champagne and a couple of plastic cups. If you've never been to New Orleans, it's here that I need to mention that there are very lax open-container laws there. People roam the streets with giant plastic cups of daiquiris and "hurricanes" that they buy at roadside stands. On New Year's Eve, everyone has a cup of something in their hands. So we poured our Champagne into cups and continued our trek down Decatur Street.
We ended up at near the corner of Decatur and Toulouse, about a block away from Jackson Square. It was the closest we could get and still see the ball drop. By this point, it was about 11:45 and it had stopped raining. Everyone was caught up in the festivities, probably because they were all half in the bag. A woman standing near us was wearing a white feather boa with little sparkles and sequins in it, and I jokingly said to Cory, "Hey, when we get married, I want to wear a sparkly white feather boa."
We drank our champagne, jockeyed for position with the other 100,000 people standing in the street, and waited for the ball to drop from the top of the old JAX brewery building.
Midnight came, we shouted "Happy New Year," and hugged and kissed. I was worried about our PDA. Then, Cory leaned in and said, "remember what you said about the lady with the feather boa?"
"Yeah," I answered. Come on, how could I forget? It had only been fifteen minutes!
"Will you marry me?" He asked.
"Of course." I said nonchalantly. I didn't think anything of it. We've always talked about getting married.
Then Cory got down on one knee (yes, in the puke and urine-soaked streets of New Orleans he actually got down on one knee), and pulled a ring out of his pocket. I was floored. I don't know what I did. I think I just stared at him, with my mouth gaping open, as he asked me again if I would marry him. I noticed people around us pointing, and saying "awwwwww" as they he kneeled in front of me.
Cory held the ring out, and I'd never seen anything so shiny or beautiful in my entire life. He slipped the ring on my finger (almost a perfect fit), and we hugged and kissed, and of course, I said "yes." People around us mouthed "congratulations" and gave us the thumbs-up sign as the crowd started to disperse.
Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to bring my camera, so we had to memorize the spot where we were standing. On one side of the street, the entrance to the Jackson Brewery building. On the other side of the street, a souvenir shop called "Gator Country." If you look at the picture on the right, we were standing just about where the horse's front hoof is planted on the pavement.
After that, we headed over to Bourbon Street, which (no surprise) was so packed that we could barely breathe. I swear, it took about ten minutes to walk a block because of the throngs of people. At one point, I stood under a balcony, pointed at my ring, and shouted "I got engaged!" and some girl chucked some beads at me.
I told Cory later that the crowds on Bourbon Street didn't bother me. I felt like I was floating all night.
The next morning, we had brunch, and then Jan and Cory had to leave to go back to C-Town. So, we got engaged, and then Cory left town. David and Eric joked later that it was Cory's backup plan; In case I said "no," he could get out of town quickly.
As if I would have said "no."
Ok, now that I've been back from New Orleans for a day, had time to catch up on sleep (sort of), and spend a day away from work (kind of), I actually have a little time to tell the story. The abbreviated version has been on Cory's blog for days.
For those of you who didn't already know, I spent a little over a week in New Orleans, covering the Auburn Tigers, reporting live every day, and producing/reporting/anchoring a one-hour pre-game special that aired on our station. Fun, right? Not so much. About 90% of the time, it seriously sucked. I worked a couple of 18 hour days, when I got up, immediately started working, and only paused to take a shower and for room service. One day, I didn't even leave the hotel until 4pm, and that was to do my live shots from across the street. Then I went back to the hotel and didn't leave again until 4pm the next day.
But I digress. Jan (my mom) was still visiting from Michigan when I left, so Jan and Cory followed us down to New Orleans. I really didn't get to see much of either of them. The first night we were in town, the six of us (including Elizabeth, David and Eric from work) went down to Bourbon Street for dinner. We ate at the Cajun Cabin, a touristy, but very fun place. There was a Zydeco band playing (Mitch Cormier and the Can't Hardly Playboys), and we all took a turn up front playing with the band.
The next day, we worked until about 6pm, then headed out for dinner at the Gordon Biersch Brewery (if there's one in your town, I highly recommend it).
The day after that was New Year's Eve. We stopped in at the media party at the Top of the Dome lounge (Which was actually at the top of the Hyatt, the media hotel), then Jan and Cory and I tried to meet up with some friends for dinner. Problem was, we never found them. So we ended up at Copeland's Cheesecake Bistro for dinner, then headed back to the hotel. From there, we caught the bus to the French Quarter, then headed towards Jackson Square for the big New Year's Eve festivities.
It's at this point, I should probably tell you how horrible I looked. My feet were killing me from two days of wearing heels (probably only the seventh or eighth time all year I'd worn heels), but the only comfy shoes I'd bought were brown. So I was wearing brown loafers, black pants, a red shirt, and a black leather jacket. Now, I'm no fashion plate, but I know better than to wear brown with black. sigh. To make matters worse, it was raining. Actually, it was drizzling, and foggy, and humid, so I really wasn't looking my best. Of course, everyone else probably looked like drowned rats, too.
At some point, we stopped in a corner store, and Jan bought some champagne and a couple of plastic cups. If you've never been to New Orleans, it's here that I need to mention that there are very lax open-container laws there. People roam the streets with giant plastic cups of daiquiris and "hurricanes" that they buy at roadside stands. On New Year's Eve, everyone has a cup of something in their hands. So we poured our Champagne into cups and continued our trek down Decatur Street.
We ended up at near the corner of Decatur and Toulouse, about a block away from Jackson Square. It was the closest we could get and still see the ball drop. By this point, it was about 11:45 and it had stopped raining. Everyone was caught up in the festivities, probably because they were all half in the bag. A woman standing near us was wearing a white feather boa with little sparkles and sequins in it, and I jokingly said to Cory, "Hey, when we get married, I want to wear a sparkly white feather boa."
We drank our champagne, jockeyed for position with the other 100,000 people standing in the street, and waited for the ball to drop from the top of the old JAX brewery building.
Midnight came, we shouted "Happy New Year," and hugged and kissed. I was worried about our PDA. Then, Cory leaned in and said, "remember what you said about the lady with the feather boa?"
"Yeah," I answered. Come on, how could I forget? It had only been fifteen minutes!
"Will you marry me?" He asked.
"Of course." I said nonchalantly. I didn't think anything of it. We've always talked about getting married.
Then Cory got down on one knee (yes, in the puke and urine-soaked streets of New Orleans he actually got down on one knee), and pulled a ring out of his pocket. I was floored. I don't know what I did. I think I just stared at him, with my mouth gaping open, as he asked me again if I would marry him. I noticed people around us pointing, and saying "awwwwww" as they he kneeled in front of me.
Cory held the ring out, and I'd never seen anything so shiny or beautiful in my entire life. He slipped the ring on my finger (almost a perfect fit), and we hugged and kissed, and of course, I said "yes." People around us mouthed "congratulations" and gave us the thumbs-up sign as the crowd started to disperse.
Unfortunately, I'd forgotten to bring my camera, so we had to memorize the spot where we were standing. On one side of the street, the entrance to the Jackson Brewery building. On the other side of the street, a souvenir shop called "Gator Country." If you look at the picture on the right, we were standing just about where the horse's front hoof is planted on the pavement.
After that, we headed over to Bourbon Street, which (no surprise) was so packed that we could barely breathe. I swear, it took about ten minutes to walk a block because of the throngs of people. At one point, I stood under a balcony, pointed at my ring, and shouted "I got engaged!" and some girl chucked some beads at me.
I told Cory later that the crowds on Bourbon Street didn't bother me. I felt like I was floating all night.
The next morning, we had brunch, and then Jan and Cory had to leave to go back to C-Town. So, we got engaged, and then Cory left town. David and Eric joked later that it was Cory's backup plan; In case I said "no," he could get out of town quickly.
As if I would have said "no."
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