where the street has one name: bourbon

I had other people with me in this picture, but they’re both attorneys, and I’m not sure they want to be associated with this post or this blog, so I cut them out.  Besides, is there any reason this picture–which is clearly the new definition of the word “perfect”–needs any complementing?  No.  And if you’re wondering if two of the necklaces feature a nude woman riding on a giant penis, the answer is “yes.”

My trip started with my de facto partner’s missing the flight.  Jackass.  Who leaves his house too late for a trip to New Orleans?  Not me!  I arrived right BEFORE they shut the escape hatch (and before the airline realized that I have two cases in litigation against them right now–which is why I used my military ID instead of my GA drivers license…you know, as a diversion).  Luckily, two guys in business class were other attorneys I knew, and they split the shuttle to the hotel.  I tagged along.

The conference on the first day was good.  I think.  I sat in on a session or two and then started eating oysters and drinking beer at The Acme Oyster House.  We returned for the afternoon session and then went to a bar at The Roosevelt.  Because that’s what classy Southern barristers do at 4pm.  We ate somewhere and then went to some bars.  My Twitter stream indicates I was sending messages to Katy Perry at 4:44 and still at a bar past 5.  I remember seeing a street covered in garbage and fire hose streams as the sun flirted with the horizon when I hit the hotel elevator.

Lunch was Friday’s first meal.  I sat in on the latter half of the seminar and then went out again, stopping at Galatoire’s Restaurant for dinner:  truly a “to do before you die” dining experience at an establishment over 100 years old.  I even refrained from acting an ass.  Sort of.

We went out to a couple bars and then greased a bouncer’s palm to get a balcony to ourselves above a bar called Cats Meow, where I once went onstage to sing “Sweet Home Alabama” on a trip during undergrad 15 years ago, because I like nostalgia and a good view.

I mean–does this not personify class?

Of course it does.  I signed up to perform in front of the throngs but apparently got too distracted to hear them call my name.  I signed up again but got forced out by my companion at 2am over–I was told the next day–great, profanity-laced protest.

I attended the seminar the following morning while my companion rode on a float in the Tucks parade.  I attended a crawfish boil by a vendor but had to leave because of my uncontrolled shaking and general misery.  I began to worry that I had not adequately trained for this event and that I might very well die.  I walked Bourbon alone for a half hour or so before returning to the room for a nap.  I was defeated.

Just as I thought I might actually fall asleep, roomie busted in the room and demanded that I don my gay pirate outfit and sneak into a Mardi Gras Coronation Party.  I walked up to the bouncers; they checked everyone’s wrists; I was in the middle of a pack; I got through.  MTV was there filming these guys.  I’m probably in the background with a chicken leg in one hand and a bourbon in the other, trying to regain some semblance of coherence with that dog hair trick everyone talks about.

Then, it was time for a conference-sponsored costume party on a Bourbon Street balcony.  I was in such disrepair that I stood in front of the bartender for a full 45 seconds before finally requesting a water.  20 minutes later, I stood in front of him another 45 seconds before requesting a Crown and Coke (I never drink Coke, but I felt caffeine was a must at this point).  He just shook his head and poured.  It was 7.15pm.

7 became 8 which smacked into 9 then melted into 10 before molding into 11 and collapsing into 12 prior to colliding with 1.  Party over.  Time to shuffle back to the hotel to get ready for an early Sunday morning flight.

One last look out the window Sunday morning, and it was back to the airport.

And back to this:

Thank God I can go back to work and be a normal person for 4 days until I go to San Antonio this weekend.

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  1. Looks like you adapted well. Nice costume. Two questions….did the jacket fly for a coat at Galatoire’s ….and will you be bringing it to BlogHer? ; )
    .-= Kim´s last blog ..Why can’t we be friends?? =-.

  2. New Orleans is one of my favorite cities. It’s that special place where we can embrace that gay pirate that’s inside us all and have a good time.

    The other place like that is Boise, Idaho. Boy do THOSE bastards know how to party.
    .-= Dave2´s last blog ..RAAWR! =-.

  3. I’m totally surprised she’s not wearing the nekkid-lady-penis necklace, thinking it’s a magic rocket or some such.

  4. Obviously I need to change my profession. LOL!!

  5. So “self employed” means “making ‘dressing up like a gay pirate and getting so wasted you’re tweeting celebrities’ tax deductible”?
    .-= SciFi Dad´s last blog ..Behaviour =-.

  6. Heh.
    And YOU made fun of US for pregaming a fire banquet with a nap, water, and famotidine. We’re none of us as young as we used to be, no?
    .-= Shieldmaiden1196´s last blog ..Mountain Medicine =-.

    • @shieldmaiden, Hey, I didn’t announce the pregame to the entire twitterverse! But yes, I should have taken more pills or gotten a little more sleep, I believe.

  7. I love the idea of one day traveling to New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Never been. However, I begged my college age daughter, who loves taking side trips from college, not to go. Now I have concrete proof that it is really not a good idea for her to visit during Mardi Gras. What is good for the goose is not good for the gander.
    .-= SurprisedMom´s last blog ..Valentine’s Day? =-.

    • @surprised mom, You know, I spent way more time than I wanted to spend staring out at all the idiots and thinking that I hope my daughters don’t grow up and want to go down there for MG. I went in undergrad and didn’t really enjoy it. It’s better when you have enough money to stay w/in walking distance of everything and observe from above the fray. When I was sleeping on a friend’s parents’ floor and stuck in the street the whole time, it sucked.

  8. Wait. I thought you were at a legal seminar. What the hell???

  9. I’m afraid if I ever set foot in New Orleans during Mardi Gras I may get arrested. Just my bad luck.
    .-= Coal Miner’s Granddaughter´s last blog ..Sex-Crazed Underwater Bad Ass* =-.

  10. I’ve never been to Now Orleans before (well I went when I was 5 to visit my uncle who lived there, but I don’t remember that very well). Sounds like you had a lot of — hmmm, fun 🙂 The whole gay pirate thing sounds like fun.
    .-= Keith Wilcox´s last blog ..Isometric Awesomeness =-.

  11. I have not lived in New Orleans for close to 20 years now, but I get a god-awful case of homesickness every Mardi Gras. And then I troll the ‘net to read the Mardi Gras tales of others. Way to represent.
    .-= Shana´s last blog ..I’m kind of like an Olympian =-.

  12. I would have been dead at the end of the first day. You attorneys are hardcore, even if you are wearing plastic penises.

  13. Damn. DAMN. I want to go to New Orleans, too…
    .-= tracey´s last blog ..Immortality on the Internet =-.

  14. So you just happen to own a gay pirate costume?? And I love that you had to check your Twitter stream to see what you had been up to.

  15. You’ve a bit of the captain in you and then some…
    .-= Whit´s last blog ..THIS IS DUST AND SHOULD BE PARDONED AS SUCH =-.

  16. Hey, i would just like to say, what a interesting post! i am just doing a bit of research for my site but i had trouble reading this post because the text protruding in to the menu…. Edit: sorry, the problems my end, its my ancient version of internet explorer causing the fault. May be worthwhile telling peeps to update. All the best. soap opera

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