Our Nonsense In New Orleans

June 13th, 2017

Story originally written and experienced: May 6th – 9th 2017

The last time I was there things got batshit crazy.

And this time was no different.

<<   Rewind.

Listen.

New Orleans is one of the greatest cities of all time.

764d2927cd74a242_yeah-i-said-it

I truly think it kicks genuine ass. Why? Because every visit I’ve had there has been

the            farthest thing from disappointing, my last two rendezvous involving:

Accidentally sleeping in an abandoned orphanage and also…:

It happens.

It happens…

 

So when I moved just a cool 9-hour drive away from it, I knew I needed to floor it there immediately:

 

On my way, N'awlins.

On my way, N’awlins.

 

Here’s what happened:

3 cool cats decided unbelievably far in advance that they wanted to get jazzy at Jazz Fest

Best group shot we got all weekend.

Best group shot we got all weekend.

Calendars were marked. Vacation days were requested. And before we knew it, we were at the shady front door of our hand-selected Airbnb where we naturally made ourselves right at home:

Thanks for havin us.

Thanks for havin us.

 

Good to be here.

Good to be here.

 

Sorry in advance for the damages...

Sorry in advance for the damages…

 

We ignored the fact that we showed up with 2 large coolers in hand, only to find out there was no kitchen And no fridge. (BUT. There WAS a lonely microwave propped up on a chair in the second bedroom.)

tenor

Chugging our temporarily chilled drinks as fast as we could to damage control the unexpected no-fridge dilemma of 2017, things got excellent in no time. We attempted good behavior:

Proof.

Proof.

But truth be told, our time spent was categorized as quite the opposite, ranging from

1. Taking pics with the lively locals at the neighborhood bar:

Buenas noches, Stan.

Buenas noches, Stan.

2. To watching a startling performance by a drummer with absolutely no hands who just tied drum sticks to his wrists and fuckin rocked it:

3. To partying as absinthe-drinking pirates (again)

We can't explain.

We can’t explain.

4. To wondering how someone transported a birthday cake via bicycle in the front basket:

But how.

But how.

5. To witnessing Vince’s debit card getting swallowed alive by a digital juke box circa 2AM on night 1

nooooooo_elf

6. and asking the bartender if he could make it up to us by letting us play our own jams until closing time. To which he said:

No-soup-for-you

7. There were also dueling cat pianos involved:

You've cat to be kitten me right meow.

You’ve cat to be kitten me right meow.

8. And we serenaded the masses on Bourbon Street with the sweet ballads of our time:

 

9. Did I mention Jimmy Buffet just showed the fuck up during Dave Matthews’ set at Jazz Fest?

"It's me, bitches!"

“It’s me, bitches!”

 

10. And that New Orleans doesn’t sell large beers, but rather:

unnamed (13)

Needless to say, I’d like to give a big thanks to one of the best cities on earth:

764d2927cd74a242_yeah-i-said-it

For its energy, cajun snacks, and for yet another weekend filled with bottomless amounts of buoyant fun.

Thanks for this.

Thanks for this.

Go there.

Now.

I’ll even lend you my wheels.

Pedal to the metal, yo.

Pedal to the metal, yo.