same as it ever was (talking heads)

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

The crescent City? That can't be right.

Tomorrow I'm off to New Orleans. I'd like to share a story from a Mardi Gras trip I had back spring break, my senior year in college. This might sound like a normal night out on the town for some folks, but for me it was quite the odd experience...

About five or so of us were staying with a high school buddy who went to Tulane (Snake). I think that 20 or so people were staying at his place for Mardi Gras. The second night we were there me and two buddies (P-homes and Fred) were drinking and chilling on the couch. P-homes turns to me and says, "Holy shit dude, what's wrong with your eyes?" Unbeknownst to my buddies, 45 or so minutes earlier, I had ingested an oral narcotic that was starting to take drastic effect.

Directly after those words left my friends mouth some huge dude, who we didn't know, walked in front of us and punched out the massive floor to ceiling type window in snake's living room. We asked the guy what he thought he was doing but he was way too preoccupied being incoherent and pleased with himself (all the while bleeding profusely on the floor) to take time to answer our question.

At this point we decided to head outside and find Snake who was rumored to be at a party down the street. When we stepped outside old Snake was calmly leaning against a car smoking a cigarette. The next exchange went something like this...

Me: Hey Snake, some drunk fucking maniac just punched out your window, he's bleeding all over your floor.
Snake: Oh yeah man, I heard it.
Me: Really? Were you planning on doing anything about it?
Snake: Don't worry man, shit like that happens all the time.
Me: That's like an expensive window dude.
Snake: Man relax, it's Mardi Gras, New Orleans man.

Snake really took the news well, so minor disaster averted, I guess. At this point I had near permanent lock-jaw and felt as if the Atlantic Ocean was coursing through my entire being. So P-homes and I drifted over to an alternate party that was happening next door. Instead of hanging out or mingling at said get-together we somehow managed to steal the cordless house phone.

As we went back over to Snake's house things had taken a decided turn for the worse. Some dude (again no clue who this was) was trying to kick down the wooden fence between Snake's house and his other neighbor's house (who presumably still had his house phone). Something about inanimate objects had definitely pissed off a few select party revelers that Mardi Gras night.

When in Rome. P-homes and I decided we would throw the cordless phone over Snake's house. His house was one of those four story old gothic looking places. As P-homes and I were hatching our plan, the middle aged neighbor who was getting his fence destroyed came out to yell at all of the party people and pleaded with the kid stop kicking in his fence. This guy was decidedly not as cool as my buddy Snake was when it came to incidents dealing in and around destruction of personal property by a drunken MardiGraser. The drunk kid told the dude to fuck off and continued to kick down this fence, the neighbor went inside (All of this action was happening in Snake's driveway, P-homes and I were in Snake's front yard about 40 or so feet away from the fence destruction)

We decided that I'd get to the first shot to throw the phone over the house. I grabbed the phone and unsuccessfully tried to focus on the roof. I let it fly. "Clang" it hit the fucking gutter and came back down, P-homes picked it up and threw a perfect toss over the house.

As we began to celebrate the successful throw, the angry neighbor came back outside with a shotgun. He proceeded to fire off two rounds into the New Orleans night sky. P-homes and I scattered Boyz-n-the-Hood style behind the nearest car parked on the street. Party over. By this point my friends and I decided to head down to Bourbon street seeing as guy just unloaded a couple of shotgun blasts into the air.

Anyway just thought I'd share my little Mardi Gras story. That was the first and luckily last time, so far at least, I've ever seen someone actually shoot a gun in a public place, with like people around and shit. It was truly fucked-up. Can't wait to get to the crescent? City? Tomorrow. What a stupid name for New Orleans, it's the second best US destination (behind Vegas) for sinfulness and debauchery. Anyway, I'm sure I'll be at Harrah's the majority of the time. I hope black jack and craps are kind to me.

7 Comments:

Blogger Satisfied '75 said...

damn, you know thats my favorite city right? Party the fuck on.

ps - i love the nickname "jump city" for new orleans

Thursday, July 21, 2005 1:11:00 AM

 
Blogger cgpop said...

I like that nickname, I'll try to use it this weekend, see if it sticks w/ the locals.

Thursday, July 21, 2005 8:54:00 AM

 
Anonymous Bones said...

Have a blast, dude. Hope you get to enjoy a bunch of shit you'll eventually regret!

Thursday, July 21, 2005 9:27:00 AM

 
Blogger cgpop said...

I'll do my best.

Thursday, July 21, 2005 1:18:00 PM

 
Anonymous Max said...

Dude didn't something happen to your steering wheel that night as well, that was a litte odd.

All bachelor parties should be good for a week long of "blogging" debauchery.

Thursday, July 21, 2005 1:23:00 PM

 
Blogger Brent said...

Is it just me or does P-Homes and Snake sound like more homosexual references to New Orleans?

Be careful no one offers you any warm beer while you're checking out the plethora of transvestites.

Thursday, July 21, 2005 8:51:00 PM

 
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