We stayed at the Andrew Jackson Hotel in the French Quarter. An old hotel in an historic building; all the rooms opened up onto an open-air courtyard, and like most of the French Quarter, was rumored to be haunted.
It was stormy, with heavy rain and wind, we were woken up in the middle of the night by drunken hotel quests returning from a night on Bourbon Street. As we faded back to sleep, we heard some strange noises we attributed to the stormy weather.
Andrew Jackson Hotel Courtyard
We were soon woken again by the noise; it was not the wind: it was coming from the shopping bags in the corner of the room.
I turned on the light and slowly approached the bags and gave them a kick. A small gray mouse shot up vertically, landed and darted behind the dresser.
We called the front desk, got dressed, changed rooms. We left our luggage in mouse-room to pack in the morning; it was, after all, four a.m.!
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