It happened very suddenly.
I was walking the streets having a very nice time. A very cold time, but a very nice time. At this point in the evening I had about three or so beers in me, but about forty five minutes earlier I had had a BBQ brisket sandwich. So I was feeling fine. And then we made a right turn and there it was: Bourbon Street.
You hear different tales of Bourbon Street: Some say it’s a place for hookers, destitute and people crazier than Britney Spears on Red Bull. But for this moment is was just a sea of people from the top of the skies, to the ground floor. People. And beads. Lots of beads.
As I said, it happened suddenly. I looked up and someone was throwing beads to the ground. She was a cute girl – nothing special, but nothing I would say “no” too. She looked right at me, pointed and it happened.
At this point you’re thinking she flashed me. Nope – that would happen later and often. Rather she sent beads soaring down at me, right towards my beer. As a defense mechanism my freezing right hand leap out of my pants pocket and snatched them out of the air. I now held a bright green pair of beads. My brain shut down, logic went away. All I could think was… Beads…
That was the moment. The moment I knew that my life would not be complete without more beads. And better beads. And more, More, MORE!
And so the walk down Bourbon began. Rich – my tour guide – told me Bourbon wasn’t that long of a street. Stopping every 10 seconds to reach my hand in the air to beg someone to throw me beads sure made it seem so very long.
Walking among the commoners (as I called them) you found yourself surrounded by frat boys looking for boobs, homeless men looking for food, big girls looking for loving, Christians looking for converts, hot girls looking to act like they don’t care… and everyone looking for more beads.
Relief came in the form of Mike, a good friend of Rich’s and the most connected man I have ever met (his wife would later develop an infatuation with the older Sherman). Mike provided us with media passes to the Southern Comfort party. (For those of you not familiar with SoCo, it’s an alcoholic beverage that is surprisingly good with Cranberry Juice). The SoCo party provided a balcony and our keys to the kingdom.
By the time we arrived (and passed by Teddy the security guard, who was rocking an old school Jordan “23” jersey) we were already familiar with the SoCo balcony. Minutes earlier we had been sitting under it begging for beads from Tony Soprano and Artie Bucco (congrats to Jason S. for being the only one to catch the Mafia blessed beads).
With free drinks in hand we headed to the balcony, where boxes (!) of free beads greeted us. But something weird happened – the desire to GET beads was gone. A new feeling was among us: The desire to GIVE beads. And give them we did.
After a few minutes of flinging them wildly from the balcony, a group formed under us. Realizing we now had many people – the commoners – wanting our beads we got a little more selective: A cute girl here, a guy willing to throw us some beads there. Then it happened: A girl didn’t just flash her boobs for beads – she flashed her boobs for our beads!! Excited by this new found power – and we were definitely Kings by now – we started to selectively throw of beads. You wanted them, you had to earn them.
This, of course, went on for an hour or so (Thanks to a few Cranberry and SoCo’s, I couldn’t even tell you what time it was). After several good to moderate boobs, we got even choosier - After all we were the Kings, and Kings do not settle for any ordinary boobs. So we started to pick people out of the crowd.
“BLUE! I LOVE YOU! SHOW ME YOUR BOOBS!” Of course you have to substitute “BLUE” for the color of shirt the girl was wearing (RED! JEAN JACKET! AQUAMARINE! MAGENTA!). But if we had to scream at them, they probably weren’t showing. If they were going to show, we certainly didn’t need to tell them too.
This went on for hours. Eventually we migrated to other balconies (Barci Gras!) and made new friends (Olivia and her big beads; Ben). Finally someone said it was time to go and we returned to the ground. Defeated, we headed back home and my first night in NOLA ended. Luckily, I had several beads to keep my comfortable and safe that night.
There are many other stories I can (and cannot) tell from this past weekend. Stories like the Amazing Sherman Brothers who can – and will – eat anything thrown their way; the Retired Orangemen’s soon-to-be-famous rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing” at the Cat’s Meow; the naked chick bull riding; back alley bars; the random woman who stepped out, flashed and then went back in; that little girl that I gave Nemo to; Jambalaya (free the first night), Jambalaya (clutch the second night) and Jambalaya ($13); Nuggets; Sonic and the bitchy “waitress”; Hurricanes; Ron Smiley and the WDSU News Team; and much, much more.
But in the end, the rest of the weekend pretty much went like this: Beads. There were a few Mardi Gras parades thrown in (in case you have never been to NOLA during Mardi Gras you should know that they average seven parades a day leading up to the big gala on Fat Tuesday – today). The parades were great and endless, providing us with a Taylor Hicks sighting, Drew Brees, Journey, Styx (who for some reason followed one another but never played – at least in the Macy’s Day Parade the B-list bands play), and of course – more beads.
It was a truly amazing weekend. Rich made sure to show us both the devastated part of the city – and provide us with incredible insight as to the struggles the city faces – and the um, beautiful side of NOLA (basically the food). I really enjoyed the late nights and the crazy good time. And I look forward to my next trip to the Bayou…
After all, I need to get some more beads.
