(no subject)
Friday night, whilst talking to LE, I decide I want a Reuben from Shenanigan's. Next thing I know, I'm on I-59 South to New Orleans. I was wearing my old Nikes that were falling apart. The ones I used to paint houses in.
In Meridian, at 3 in the morning, we stop at a motel, an adventure in itself. It was the climax of a night of general zanyness, to the point that my throat is still sore from the yelling. Continental breakfast, in New Orleans by noon.
Parked on St. Charles, watched Isis on Canal and St. Charles, made our way to Louisiana. For those familiar with NoLa, it's all the way through the Business and Garden districts. For you others, it took an hour and half. That's when we discovered Shopping Cart day. It consists of everyone grabbing a shopping cart and filling it with liquor. I'm not sure of the details, or who pays for it, but it meant I drank for free all weekend at Tulane.
Shots of Rum, Barbeque at Igor's (delicious), we decide to head to Tulane to nap. It starts to rain, and since the soles of my shoes are separating themselves from the body, so to speak, my feet were soaked. We finally get to Tulane, soaking wet.
I understand increased security to keep the crazies out, especially during Mardi Gras, but being allowed onto Tulane's campus was like pentrating Fort Knox. And ... there are codes on the bathrooms. It's like being at Auschwitz.
Anyway, we take naps, and I put paper in my shoes to combat the wetness (which worked remarkably well). We head to Frescoe's to eat again, and that's where I met the Messiah.
Actually it was Andrew and Brian, but Andrew probably saved my life at least 39 times before the night was out, cab fare, finding me a place to sleep, and the means to take a shower.
Back to Butler Hall to pregame - and that's where we developed into a group of about 17 or so. We pile into a cab after waiting an hour and half outside of Butler - more craziness. We make it to the quarter and promptly scatter. Hours later, we reconvene at Cafe du Monde. By then it's 4 in the morning, and I pass out in Butler 4's lounge.
That's probably the worse retelling of my weekend I could muster. Maybe in person I could do it more justice. ... Meh.
In Meridian, at 3 in the morning, we stop at a motel, an adventure in itself. It was the climax of a night of general zanyness, to the point that my throat is still sore from the yelling. Continental breakfast, in New Orleans by noon.
Parked on St. Charles, watched Isis on Canal and St. Charles, made our way to Louisiana. For those familiar with NoLa, it's all the way through the Business and Garden districts. For you others, it took an hour and half. That's when we discovered Shopping Cart day. It consists of everyone grabbing a shopping cart and filling it with liquor. I'm not sure of the details, or who pays for it, but it meant I drank for free all weekend at Tulane.
Shots of Rum, Barbeque at Igor's (delicious), we decide to head to Tulane to nap. It starts to rain, and since the soles of my shoes are separating themselves from the body, so to speak, my feet were soaked. We finally get to Tulane, soaking wet.
I understand increased security to keep the crazies out, especially during Mardi Gras, but being allowed onto Tulane's campus was like pentrating Fort Knox. And ... there are codes on the bathrooms. It's like being at Auschwitz.
Anyway, we take naps, and I put paper in my shoes to combat the wetness (which worked remarkably well). We head to Frescoe's to eat again, and that's where I met the Messiah.
Actually it was Andrew and Brian, but Andrew probably saved my life at least 39 times before the night was out, cab fare, finding me a place to sleep, and the means to take a shower.
Back to Butler Hall to pregame - and that's where we developed into a group of about 17 or so. We pile into a cab after waiting an hour and half outside of Butler - more craziness. We make it to the quarter and promptly scatter. Hours later, we reconvene at Cafe du Monde. By then it's 4 in the morning, and I pass out in Butler 4's lounge.
That's probably the worse retelling of my weekend I could muster. Maybe in person I could do it more justice. ... Meh.