“Legendary-ish Stories” is a series I plan to write occasionally in which I describe actual incidents that happened in my life. These incidents often involve alcohol and at times immorality – neither of which I necessarily condone. With these stories I hope to add a touch of humor and display human imperfection while simultaneously eroding my credibility. Enjoy.
A few months back I went to New Orleans to celebrate the New Year. It was the second straight year my best friend and our wives had made the journey. We love the great food, the music, and the cheap drinks so it usually makes for a good time. The only problem with New Orleans is that going there always turns into a shit show. I’m not sure if it’s the combination of loud music, energy, women exposing their breasts, and alcohol – or what – but inevitably something goes wrong. Too much sin, I guess.
One thing you have to understand is that my best friend and his wife have two kids. They are little demons from hell so no one, not even me, will babysit. The two of them never get out under normal circumstances so when they do it’s kind of like letting a lion out of the cage with a bunch of antelope after feeding him vegan dog food for the last few months. Substitute antelope for tequila shots and Bloody Mary’s and you have the some understanding of the situation in question. Looking back on it now I realize the problem was that we were over-zealous and over-ambitious. We started drinking at about 4pm and actually expected to make it until midnight. Rookie mistake.
Being a bunch of cheap-asses we started drinking in the hotel room. I guess $3 drinks weren’t cheap enough. I distinctly remember my friend’s wife guzzling a concoction that would run my car and feeling like I was going to puke just watching. In the back of my mind I knew we were screwed from the start.
After an hour of boozing in the hotel room like a bunch of frat boys we hit the first bar – which was conveniently located next door to the hotel. We drank $3 Bloody Mary’s for dinner. For a while we thought about staying there all night, but for some reason we decided relocating would amplify our fun. So we found ourselves at a more crowded, shittier, bar on Bourbon Street. This part of the story starts moving so fast in real life that I have trouble describing it now.
Soon enough the only thing I can remember is it being dark outside and admiring a nice pair of fake breast expertly implanted and evenly proportional. I remember examining them more out of curiosity than perverse enjoyment. My wife was next to me and neither of us having touched a pair theorized on the density and texture of said breasts. We came to no consensus.
I also remember complaining that fake breast bother me. This made my wife happy. A few flashes later and I have a “huge ass beer” in my hand and we are listening to a white guy rap on stage. It was mediocre. I do remember wishing for a second I was rapping on stage, but even in my drunken stupor a white-man two step jig was all I could manage.
I remember eating a slice of pizza and saying to myself “you’ll be running that off tomorrow” – for some reason I wasn’t concerned about the empty calories from all the beer I was consuming. At this point I also had about 5lbs of beads around my neck that I am not certain how I acquired. I was only marginally concerned later the next morning that they smelled like puke – especially since I had not vomited that night.
Next I remember seeing my friend. He was soaked and furious. “She dumped a $10 drink on my FUCKING head!” I remember being more concerned at the wasted $10 than my soaked friend. Apparently his wife and he had an argument brought on by cheap booze and loose women. She had dumped a giant mixture of vodka and juice over his head.
His shirt was stained cranberry red and everyone in the immediate area could only stop and stare in amazement wondering what might happen next. My friend stormed off and we didn’t find him until well after midnight and New Years Eve had ended.
I remember sipping my beer while all this was going down thinking “this is a real shit show”. His wife started crying and I pretended not to acknowledge her existence. We had become those people with the crying lady in public. No amount of booze could make up for what had just happened. It’s the first time in my adult life I remember looking at someone I care about and thinking “you deserve to cry.”