Ahhh, New Orleans—the city of jazz, ghosts, and enough fried food to make your arteries weep for mercy. It had been on my bucket list forever, and I finally made it! A city that wraps its sticky, humid arms around history and haunts, where Bourbon Street smells like the desperate aftermath of one-too-many-bad-decisions, and honestly? I was here for it. I went full-on tourist mode and I am not sorry about it. We’re talking graveyard strolls, overpriced bus tours, and gorging on beignets like I’d never seen powdered sugar before. I partied hard on Bourbon Street, made some spectacularly poor decisions (read: paid way