I started out this trip behaving like a spoiled little West Coast snot, like a character out of that famous New Yorker drawing that shows a map of the U.S., with the Left Coast and the East Coast, and nothing in the middle. How wrong that is, and what an ignorant turd I was for falling for it.

The middle of this country has the nicest, most down to earth people we’ve met, and some of the most creative. And since arriving in the South, we’ve witnessed more talent, and met more artistic individuals here than anywhere else. Maybe it’s because they’re at arm’s reach here, whereas on the coasts, the artists and musicians I’ve met have gigantic egos, stick to their own kind and don’t make an effort to blend in with the masses, unless it’s to try to make a buck.

In New Orleans, life is more affordable than other major cities, and as a result, it appears that artists are converging here from everywhere, setting up galleries, playing gigs and living life.

One Friday night, our friend Gordon and his crew took us off the beaten path. We went far away from the Spring Break scene on Bourbon Street and onto Frenchman Street instead, where the locals hang out and listen to live music. We went from bar to bar with drinks in hand, and caught a number of talented bands like Sista Otis, all making their art work in this cool little town.