1. Cut a hole in a box.
Wait. Wrong list.
To Win At Mardi Gras 2011, One Must:
1.) Bring the right ammunition.
2.) Power through the sleep deprivation.
3.) Pick the right balcony.
4.) Pay attention to the signs.
5.) Remember the children.
6.) Watch for mythic creatures.
7.) Honor thy Captain.
8.) Go with a Christmas theme.
9.) Come strong.
The rest of the story:
Before arriving in New Orleans, my work wife and I shipped four boxes filled with thousands of high end beads and 50 feather boas to the W. Upon checking into the room and our conference at 11am, we promptly left said conference for Pat O’Briens, where I declared it time to have ONE hurricane. But that didn’t work.
Three hurricanes each later and still without lunch, we wandered up to the Tropical Isle for hand grenades. Inside, I saw the sign pictured in the blurry shot above (#4) and thought I’d call the phone number listed underneath the bar owners’ names, figuring I’d leave them a nice voicemail. A lady answered the phone.
Me: I’m at your bar!
Her: Really? That’s nice…which one?
Me: Y’all have more than one of these things? I’m on Bourbon.
Her: Why, yes…three on Bourbon!
Me: I’m at…Hell, I don’t know! I think I’m at the original.
Her: Well, that’s nice. Is everything okay there?
Me: Did you know you caused me to miss a formal in 1994?
Her: Oh no–I’m sorry about that…
Me: Yeah, I woke up a few hours after trying a few of your “hand grenade” drinks on the floor of my hotel room, and while my fraternity brothers, dressed in tuxes, laughed at me sprawled out on the carpet. It was humiliating!
Me: Well, I just thought you should know that. I’m doing better today.
Her: Okay, well, thanks for calling…
Then we walked outside to find a child turning a hand grenade vertical on the sidewalk (see picture #5).
Dinner was at the jacket-required (sorry, Phil Collins) Galatoire’s, where we were handed “to go” cups and our ticket before we’d finished our meals, because of my affinity for loudly declaring that THIS TOWN IS FILLED WITH WHORES! I think we went back to Pat O’s and to the Cat’s Meow and some other bars with music and drinks and people in them, where I seem to have found that a nap was in order, only to wake up to find most everyone I’d come with was gone, along with my iphone, so I walked back to the hotel to cuddle with my work wife.
Day 2 began with a couple hours spent at the conference we were there to attend. Then I think we had some oysters, and the weak napped while I got got educated some more at the conference and FINALLY figured out where my iphone was (one of the guys I was with picked it up for me after I walked off from the table where it sat). That night, my work wife and I had arranged for the balcony at Cat’s Meow (see picture #3) after enjoying some strange beverage that’s been outlawed in most of the country (see picture #2). The girl next to me on the balcony was 19 and was there with her father, who was in the middle of a divorce and was trying to win the “cool parent” title. Most of my “overheard” tweets from Friday night demanding to see more tit were from her.
Oh yeah, even though the costume party was set for Saturday night, I thought I’d wear the coat on Friday night, because everyone loves a singing Robin Hood:
Saturday, we watched the Krewe of Tucks parade (see picture #6), which had a theme called “iTucks: what’s APPenning.”
So, the floats were about Farmville.
And Lindsay Lohan.
Next, it was the House of Blues for crawfish and beer, followed by a nap, and then– the highlight of the trip:
Picking a Buddy the Elf costume (from the movie “Elf“) for the Christmas-themed party Saturday night and then walking up and down Bourbon and Royal Streets in said costume has to be the best decision I’ve made in at least 2 years or so.
I was asked for a group picture between 40 and 500 times. I heard screams of “Hey Buddy, what’s your favorite color?” and “I KNOW you!” and “I’ll help you find your dad, Buddy!” and “What are the 4 food groups, Buddy?” and “Buddy!” from every direction.
Being surrounded by Santa and Mrs Claus for said walks up and down Bourbon made it even better:
And so concluded another monumental Mardi Gras!
At about 4am (or, right after I got asked to leave the bar where I perched upon a stool and declared it my stage).
Am I ready to declare this better than last year’s Mardi Gras trip? Absolutely.
Nice, dude. Sorry I missed it … I think.
@Daddy Scratches, You would’ve made a nice addition to this crew. I could’ve called you my paralegal or “bitch.”
Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt.*
*T-shirt paid for in beads, which is another story entirely.
@dave2, One which you MUST tell!
Now I know for certain – we must throw down drinks together.
@Sybil Law, You can’t handle the Muskrat! But you’re welcome to try.
You made it back to document the trip,….and that’s enough to declare it a good time. Looks like a blast, dude. Glad you got some pics and memories to share.
@jason, Thanks. Come down next year.
I’m not worthy.
That is all.
@LAB, Work at it for a while. You will be one day.
I missed Mardi Gras again for the 41st year running? I sense a pattern here. At least I got good rest so I could return to my cubicle the next day.
@Grant, That’s the saddest comment I’ve ever read, I think.
Didn’t go to Mardi Gras but did the next best thing; sat at work at the 911 center watching classic eps of COPS filmed at Mardi Gras. Last night’s episode harkened from 1990 or so and followed a female officer named Desiree who I gathered between calls was 1) a black belt and 2) gets hit on a lot when she’s walking down Bourbon Street. There were mullets.
@Shieldmaiden1196, I bet that was quite funny. And, I’m glad I did not meet Desiree while there!
There are parts of this story which were edited when I was regaled with your experiences on this trip. Next year, I am coming to protect you from the whores. Be warned, bitches.
You, Father Muskrat, are a party animal extraordinaire. This is such a fine example of pre-Lent decadence that I linked to it in a blogpost. You’ll find yourself under the word “revellers”.
@PB, But I sprayed myself with “whores be gone!” – isn’t that good enough?
Whenever I read these stories, I am in such awe of your stamina. I honestly don’t know how you do it.
@Britt, I’m an ENFP, so…more people around=more energy. The Four Loko helped, too.
You are one, classy, bad-ass dude. Knowing you brings a tear to my eye. *Sniff*
@CMG, With emphasis on the “classy,” I’m sure.
I think she means “klassy.”
I’m way jealous of the Buddy costume. Well played, Sir.
@Whit, Funny how a decision made on a whim can turn out to be so wise. Sort of like marriage!
I was in NO many years ago and it was not even Mardi Gras and It was insane.
@William, It’s a fun place. I used to prefer visiting when it was NOT Mardi Gras better, but that was because when I went in undergrad 8 times (7 non-MG trips; 1 MG trip), we drove and stayed in cheap hotels or the ‘burbs with friends’ parents. Now that I’m all grown and fly in, stay in the Quarter, and have friends who will pay for me to do cool stuff, I love going to NO during Mardi Gras! Hey, you should come in April for Mom 2.0. A bunch of cool kids will be there, as will I.
Dude… who was the Mrs. Claus?
@SciFi Dad, An attorney out of Charlotte, NC named Anne. Why?
Dude, seriously, you take partying to a whole other level. It’s like an art form with you. Impressive.
Are you wearing contacts? Where are the glasses? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.
@Faiqa, It helps me stay youngish.
I thought it best to avoid the possibility of losing said glasses, given their connotation and immediate attraction of the ladies. However, I haven’t worn contact lenses since 1988.
schrodinger’s dick in a box
I immediately thought of the muskrat…
@Ben K, I am honored that you thought of me!
Sweet heaven. I just watched the video.
@PB, And you loved it-right?
Looking forward to hanging out in NOLA with you for Mom 2.0. Seems like you know your way around. There will be karaoke!
@beta dad, It’s like going back in time to see this. We totally rocked that town!
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