The prodigal friend has returned to the Crescent City. This time I didn’t drive anywhere. The plan was to simply get pick up my vehicle and get wasted. Mission accomplished.
It’s a week before St. Patrick’s Day but these assholes are having a parade. They’re so drunk they don’t even know what day it is. They ride these decommissioned Marti Gras floats where they throw beads, stuffed animals, cabbages, onions, potatoes, and cucumbers. The idea is that you collect all the veggies and make a pot of stew to eat the next day. My friend Russ, his med school buddies, and myself are drinking in front of The Bulldog. This float full of liquor filled banana heads stops in front of us and is surgically picking off people with vegetables. It was all pretty funny and we’re avoiding the carnage pretty well until it happened. I looked down to watch some hot chick slip on a storm drain cover and when I looked up a GIANT cucumber nailed me in the face. The cucumber exploded and knocked me stupid. This guy with a hollowed out cabbage stuffed with a beer bottle looked at me and said, “Hey man, are you ok?” I just looked at him and then his cabbage, back at him… “Uh… uh… I’m a little… Uh… Hey, that’s pretty cool.” I said pointing at the cabbage. “Thanks man!”, he responded. I stood there for about five minutes in silence sorting through my emotions. Am I embarrassed? Angry? What IS humus made of? Who is this St. Patrick anyway?
The party continued at Parasol’s and then at this Jew-face guy’s house. With another successful trip to New Orleans under my belt I return to my new home in Houston wishing I had a shitload of cash to buy a house in Chocolate City.
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