Look, Mardi Gras in New Orleans is kind of like life on the moon. You can't really say what its like unless you've seen it, its crazy as all hell, some of it probably has to do with probing, and its crazy as all hell.
You really think of it as one big giant booze fueled orgy with beads, beers, boobs and bordellos... But really I only saw a few of those things when I was there. And during the day time its completely different. There are lots of families out to collect beads, drink beers, admire boobs, and possibly patronize the bordellos. Seriously.
There were families with little kids that just brought bags to the parades and flung their children over whatever police barracade was in their way in order to HORDE BEADS. I've never seen anything like it. What are they food? Did i miss something? They are plastic right? WHY DO YOU NEED WHOLE DUFFLE BAGS OF BEADS. And really I think that whole flashing thing is over-hyped, I didn't see too much of it. I only had one girl flash me when I was there. Granted, I was flattered. But I was also with my enormous 6'5" friend, and she could've just mistaken him for a carnivorous predator and flashed her "false eye spots" to confuse him into thinking she was a much larger, and hence inedible prey.
But I digress... The real point of me sharing this with the world is to get the real point about New Orleans as a city itself. Honestly, nothing there made sense. Everyone was seriously drunk or drinking seriously, the cops were the meanest people around, and every person I met on the street became my best friend simply because I was standing near them. It was like the entire city was just one big hapenin' spot that no one new about because you had to be a friend of someone important to get in, and because we all new that one friend but not each other, we were instantly trustable and someone you'd want to introduce to your daughter.
But all was not so... So my giant friend and myself happened to be patronizing a Krystal burger on a Sunday evening (that's like a knockoff White Castle, by the way... NOT a bordello) and we go in and order and everything and are waiting around with lots of other people for our food when my friend says he hears fireworks.
Well lo and behold someone comes running into the joint saying "Everybody get DOWN!" And of course, people liking to do what loud people tell them, all hunkered down on the floor to get out of range of any stray bullets. I kind of thought it was silly since I hadn't heard any evidence of gunfire, but I soon changed my mind when I saw a uniformed police officer outside running--piece out and pointed down, Jack Baur style--and decided that I too would join everyone on the floor. This didn't last long of course, because my order was called almost immediately, so I just kind of held my hand up at the counter and magically an unafraid and seemingly battle tested Krystal Employee handed me my delicious, delicious bag of whateverwedecidedlookedgoodwhenweordered.
We go upstairs to a second floor eating area, thinking it might be a little safer from stray gunfire, but a cop soon comes up and tells us we should leave, and to have our ID's ready and we're going to be frisked. I finished my burger (we still had more) and threw any trash and weapons I happened to be carrying at the time (they were ample) and walked to the door where some sauced, 40 something, crazy, peroxide blonde was screaming at some drunken highschool kids. Don't worry, I was as confused as you are now. I have no, nor cannot produce an explanation as to what was happening. This happened a lot. Moving on:
We go outside get frisked and ID'd and I thank the officer for handling the situation and I'm glad they have so many horses in a major metropolitan area. He pushes me. I thank him again. This is leading to yet another story of a shooting... no joke. There was more than one.
The night before, my friends and I strolled back to our Hotel (near Canal and Bourbon St. Awesome location... who found it? Ahem) and found that the street it was on was blocked off by police tape. What the hell? My friend would later relate his experience to me as the following:
So I ask the cop that was rolling out the tape what happened and he said
"Please step away, sir, I am an officer of the LAW." (A police version of
flashing your eyespots) I told him that I was sorry, but stayed at the
hotel that was currently being quarentined and wanted to know what happened.
He got really irratated. "SIR, you are invading my personal space
and I'm going to ask you again, for the last time, to move back. SIR, SIR!
You're not moving back fast enough, I AM AN OFFICER OF THE LAW. Move back faster. CONTINUE TO MOVE BACKWARDS."
Apparantly backing away slowly, with your hands in the air isn't good
enough anymore. I guess it was a good thing that he yelled at me as I
backed up slowly instead of me TAKING OFF RUNNING and him shooting me.'
I concur with all of this.
That is not all, nor nearly everything I can and will divulge in a semi-public setting. I mean after all, I have a serious internet reputation to hold up here. But I can and will say that if you ever go to New Orleans... Go out, Go hard, but Get the hell in a hotel before midnight because that's when all of the shoostings begin.
Best party ever
So far...
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