Surviving Mardi Gras...kind of.

Its been a while since we got back from our Mardi Gras trip.  I think I can still recount much of what happened.
Kell and I arrived in town earlier than what I thought, and was greeted by a flat out awesome smell of coffee.  We parked the Jeep at the nearby parking deck, and proceeded to try to find the Hotel to check in.  Which we should have done before unloading said Jeep, and walking down the street with suitcases, four bottles of liquor and other items in tow.  But no problem, as the hotel was right down the block.  Checked in, and admired the size of our room.  Like really admired it, especially seeing as how large it was for the price I paid during the Mardi Gras period.  Hotels.com FTW!
We jumped right into having fun, as Kell had brought our Fat Tuesdays drink holders from our last trip two Halloweens ago.  I filled mine with Rum and Diet Dr. Pepper, and Kell did her's with Rum and Coke Zero.  Hit the streets and began to have fun.  We opted first to head up to Bourbon, just to see how far we would be, for walking distance.  Turned out, not to far at all, only about three blocks.  
There were people already out and about having fun.  Which I began to grin from ear to ear, as I knew it was fuckin on.
We got 190 Octanes, walked around some more, and eventually decided to go get some dinner.  We stopped in at this pizza place that we loved the last time we were in town.  And thankfully it was still open.  French Quarter Pizzaria & Bar I believe its called.
After dinner, went back out into the quarter for some drankin and celebration.  My memory is a little hazy, but I do know my hip was hurting real bad from driving all day, so we had to walk back to the room around 11.
At some point, I passed out.  
At some point later, I got up to go to the restroom.  
At some point again later, I woke Kell up trying to get back into the room, explaining that I was trying to find the restroom.  Here's where things get interesting.  Kell was out cold.  And I don't remember a gotdamned thing.  So as far as both of us know, on one end of the spectrum, I could have opened the door to the hotel room, and turned around, and got myself back in, all in the span of a minute. Or...I could have opened the door, pissed in the hallway, elevator, lobby...anywhere but my toilet, and made my way back to the room.  Or worst case scenario, where I normally operate in, I got up, went to locate the restroom, walked out of the hotel room instead, decided "fuck it" went down to the lobby, out to the street, and partied some more before wandering back.  Either one of those could have happened.
The next day we woke up, and Kell recounted to me waking her up in the middle of the night trying to get back into the room.  
We walked down to Cafe Beignet's to get some breahfus.  Everything they served came with fuckin eggs.  I hate eggs.  But they were nice enough to give me extra grits and bacon. 
Kell and I ate and walked around some more.  I began to debate on just how early is too early to start drinking on a saturday.  
We had planned on eating at this place called Johnny PoBoys' for lunch, but it was uber packed, so we opted to go to Pierre Masperos.  I got a crawfish poboy and a gigantor beer.  Kell got a roast beef poboy and a beer as well.  
We both decided a nap was in order, as I'm a punk bitch, and love my naps.  I woke up, and started in on drinking again.  More rum and diets.  We got dressed, and got some more 190s.  Did a bit of shopping, and came back to the room to drop our stuff off.
Drank some more.
Then went to the front of our place to see the parade.  Which was really fun, as Kell and I caught a metric ton of beads.  We caught so much shit, we were passing it on to other people.  We both didn't feel like trying to find some new place to eat, so we went back to the French Quarter pizza place, and knocked out a meal there.  
We had decided early on that we were determined to sing Karaoke while we were in town, so we went to find the Cat's Meow, which is not a stripper karaoke bar, like the name suggests.
I sang, she sang, I nearly punched a guy.
We left, and got some more 190s.
Then walked a little further, stopped for Kell to get some lipgloss, and she then realized all the zippers on her purse was open, and her wallet was no longer there.
After a mild freak out, we walked back to the daiquiri bar, and they hadn't seen the wallet, which was unfortunate, because it was the last place it had been used.  
We knew that it had been stolen.  We started walking back towards the room, and I spotted two cops, and we told them what went down.  
Then it began to hit us.  I let out a growl and punched a marble wall.  My knuckles are still hurting from that bad decision.  We knew that our trip was going to be cut short.  
Got back to the room, and Kell spent the better part of two hours calling banks and credit card companies.  
The next morning, we got up and checked out.  Then it dawned on us that we had our parking ticket for the parking deck in her wallet.  Which really sucked when we saw the sign that said "MISSING TICKETS - $20"
FAAAAAAAAAHHHHQ!
I explained to the lady working the toll both what had happened, hoping that we would just get the charge of 30 dollars a night for both the nights we were there, and not the additional 20.  She talked to someone on her radio and then waved us on, saying don't worry about it. We thanked her, and drove on.
Down at the exit was a plain clothes police officer who stopped to talk to us, and said "so you guys got picked?"  We told him yeah, and what happened.  He apologized, and we drove on home.
I sucked really bad having to deal with the stolen wallet, and cutting our trip short, but I would go back in a hot minute.  I really love hanging out down there.

Comments

  1. Now that I'm over my freakout I'd go back too - just play it safer!

    Man I want a frozen drink right now!!! Peach Bellini please!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Finish That Sentence: Link-Up

Growing Up Hurt and Humiliated. Part 1

Diet Frustration. Tastes more like Regular Frustration