I went to New Orleans dreaming of jazz echoing through cobblestone streets, the smell of gumbo in the air, and locals dancing to brass bands under the sunset. But Bourbon Street at night felt more like Las Vegas with a hangover. Tourists stumbled from bar to bar with plastic cups, yelling “Mardi Gras!” in October. Street performers fought for tips, and the jazz was drowned out by EDM blasting from neon-lit clubs. I watched a man dressed as a clown take selfies in front of a 200-year-old church — and people cheered. Locals told me, “We love visitors, but they don’t love the real New Orleans. They just love the party.” And they’re right. Somewhere between the hurricanes (the drink) and the hurricanes (the storms), the city’s soul got commercialized. Is this still cultural celebration — or cultural exhaustion? #Travel #NewOrleans