Road Trip (H.S.)

Chapter 26

Felicity

A couple hours later, the three of us are walking the streets of New Orleans. Zayn does his best to be a tour guide, pointing out shops and buildings and restaurants that are supposedly very iconic. I'm not sure how long he's been living here, but it has to have been for a long time now because he tells a short story on the history of each place he points out. I don't even know that much about New York City and I've basically lived there my whole life. 

People flood the streets and make it difficult to walk through. I think people are already too drunk to notice anything because it's as if the cold weather doesn't phase them. Some don't wear jackets and others are actually sweating. And even though it's this cold, every door and window to all the bars are wide open, music loudly playing in each one. Everything confuses me. Things must be backwards here.

"So," Zayn's voice drifts over the loud noise of the city streets and pulls me from my own world. As I look over to him, he sweeps his arm out to the side as if showcasing some kind of prized possession. "Welcome to Bourbon Street."

I follow him around the corner until I'm met with a bunch of colored lights and loud music. There are people everywhere, at every square inch of the street. If I wasn't aware of the time of year, I would have assumed it was Mardi Gras with the amount of people and celebrations that I see in front of me. I've never seen anything so crowded and wild, not even Times Square looks this busy.

I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed and slightly claustrophobic as we walk down the street. None of this phases Zayn. He must be completely used to this by now. I don't think I could ever get used to this kind of crowd. Everyone is drunk out of their minds, obnoxiously loud, and making me nervous for my own well-being. I find myself occasionally reaching out for Harry's arm, seeking some kind of comfort in this madness.

There are a few moments where Harry reaches out for me, grabbing onto my arm and pulling me into his body. I start to notice he only does this when I'm not paying attention, pulling me out of the way as a bunch of drunken bodies stumble beside us. It's then that I realize he's looking out for me when I'm not aware of everything going on around me. If he hadn't yanked me towards himself all these times, eventually drunken partygoers would have come between us and I'd be lost within the sea of people.

I'm not entirely sure if the people around us are locals or tourists. They all seem to behave in the same manner, and the only people standing off to the sides of the street observing everyone are mostly older men and women, ones that look less than amused to see the chaos. There is so much yelling and drunken laughter being heard from all the bars and filling my ears. I can't decide if I want to stay away from it all or if it intrigues me enough to want to go see what's happening. 

But all obnoxiously drunk scenes aside, Bourbon Street is incredible. It's so alive and colorful. Everyone may act the same, but no one looks the same. It's messy but it's beautiful. It's strangely intriguing.

As the sun continues to set, it casts a radiant orange hue over the street. I'm in awe of what's in front of me. In just a few moments, the sky is nearly pitch black and Bourbon Street is glowing. Every bar, club, restaurant and store has little neon signs just above their entrance door that lights up against the darkness. Some flash repeatedly, some change colors. Christmas lights are strung up above us, moving from one building to another and wrapping around balconies. The ambience is too stunning for words. Nothing I could ever say would do this place justice. 

Zayn must have made his way around the city multiple times because it seems as if everyone knows him. He's created a reputation for himself and it's not a bad one. I think he's too nice for anyone to want to say bad things about him. He's friendly and leaves people smiling when he speaks with them.