My liver has participated in many marathons but none like the night in NOLA-a 13 hour binge marathon that spanned 3 neighborhoods…complete with a hand full of one-liners from my fellow drinking connoisseurs that I’m probably going to repeat from now to the day I die of liver sclerosis…an up-and-down roller coaster of a spree that can only be summed up as an AA Recruitment Drive.
Realistically, the only classy things present on this cross-country bar crawl was the cottage we were staying in and our wardrobe…and one of those is debatable.
Most notable memories from New Orleans that I can actually remember:
- Local guy at a dive bar with a handle bar mustache: “You probably shouldn’t go to that bar. I got in a fight with a coke dealer after I rammed his escalade. I said to him, ‘You and me. No insurance. No cops. Mano a Mano.’… kicked my flip-flops off and beat his ass. Kicked him in the fucking head…barefoot. That shit hurt.”
Me: “I definitely want to go to that bar.”
- What do you think is behind that door?
- JT: Daylight savings time really fucks-up my drinking schedule I thought it was like 10:30! (as we get kicked out of a bar at 6:30)
-I was chatting with a prostitute and she said she LOVES daylight saving time because she can start her night at 5:30.
-Is a prostitute ever really off-duty?
-You right. If she got propositioned at the grocery store, it would go down…or she would.
- Can I jump on your back right now? -me
Oh you a bad bitch! Yeah, you definitely from Memphis! Come on white girl! Jump on the gorilla. –gorilla man (As you can see, I was so happy that my head exploded.)
- The more you drink…the better you think we sound.-trombone player
-As we sat on the curb…taking a flask full of vodka to the cranium. They sounded really good. http://youtu.be/V0MF8NZlBPs
- Stop shaking your ass. Honey, you look like you’re giving birth.-random MC to drunk bitch on stage
- I love you. I just love you.-girl in the group that never gets drunk <international symbol of white-girl wasted>
- Started a rave in a pizzeria…while eating a granola bar I whipped out of my purse. Fuck Lord of the Rings. Crank the bass.
- Ugh man, you’re smoking menthol!?! 50 million black people die every year from that. -W
- I sent that picture of the trannie to my mom last night and said, ‘this is my date for the evening.’ Don’t remember that. -JT
I colored to pass the time on the road. Literally, drove 400 miles. Got drunk at a bar. Slept. Got drunk on Bourbon and Frenchman. Slept. Drove 400 miles back. And all I have to show for it is this fucking coloring book.
When the night ends with three twenty-somethings stumbling through the streets on a scavenger hunt for the lost car, only one conclusion can be made: definitely going back to New Orleans.
P.S. Who dat!