PSA

This post serves as  public service announcement to let you all know that I did, in fact, survive a New Orleans birthday. Somehow. Highlights include:

-After a decently crazy night out Saturday night, (much of which I’ll refrain from posting online), we got up super early, hung out in the room, and made our way to brunch at 11:30. My two friends and I were wearing matching ‘Less Thinking, More Drinking’ shirts, which we thought were really funny (because they were) until we walked into our brunch spot, Antoine’s, and found most of the crowd to be in their post-church Sunday best. Let’s just say I don’t think everyone was as impressed with us as we were with ourselves…. To add fuel to that fire, my friends asked the jazz trio to sing me happy birthday, and most of the crowd looked on in horror as we sat there, laughing, drinking mimosas, and taking videos. (Insert McKayla Maroney ‘not impressed’ face on all other patrons)

-After stopping at a few more bars, the trio made our way to Bourbon Street, and posted up on barstools at a window overlooking Bourbon for obviously epic people-watching. We sat there talking about people, taking turns buying rounds, and making slow-motion videos of ourselves taking shots. You can probably see the writing on the wall for the rest of the day here… While sitting in the window, many characters stopped and talked to us, and I got some sloppy birthday kisses from some of the shadiest characters in North America. I loved every second. (sidenote: kisses were on the cheek. I don’t let my lips touch anything but drink glasses in New Orleans. It’s a good rule of thumb.)

-After sitting in the window for literally 4+ hours, we decided we better head over to the Krazy Korner to do some dancing. A) they were playing good music, B) we were celebrating, and C) we didn’t want bed sores to set in while sitting on our barstools. Immediately upon walking into the bar, the singer bought me a shot, as she could tell it was my birthday, because I had money pinned to my shirt (apparently a NOLA tradition, and people walking by can add money to your collection. I made about $8). Things start to get hazy from here, but my bestie has the ability to not black out when drunk (how? HOW?), and filled me in on the fact that within 5 minutes of being in the bar, our other friend and I were on stage dancing. People continued to buy me shots until said bestie had to tie a sign around my neck that said, ‘Don’t Feed the Bear’ (not really), but she did have to politely tell people that I probably shouldn’t have any more tequila. At one point, I was apparently having a rough time standing, and someone from the band instructed the crowd to get me a chair. In the rest of America, if you can’t stand in a bar, you’re ushered out and possibly arrested. In New Orleans, the employees offer accommodations. And people wonder why I love that damn city so much. After a while of me trying not to fall off a barstool, and one 3-woman wolfpack member playing the spoons on a washboard, we decided it was probably time to head home. Once out in the street, I started performing pole dances. Don’t worry, not the sexy ones, the I’mGonnaBreakMyFaceIfIDon’tHoldThisPoleForDearLife ones. I think it probably was pretty sexy too, though. After a quick stop for pizza and breadsticks, we headed for the hotel. Thank goodness for no emergencies that evening, because it would’ve taken a bulldozer and a crane to get me out of my bed. (Or, someone probably could’ve just held a Hand Grenade under my nose…)

-You can probably guess how we were feeling Monday, so we headed out for breakfast, where I got some Brie mac-n-cheese that quite possibly saved my life. Monday was spent trying not to vomit lazily walking around the city, and was capped off with a ghost tour. The only ghost I saw was the 32-year-old staring back at me in the mirrors. And let me tell ya, she was pretty damn terrifying.

-Last day was spent not waking up hungover (glorious) and some more leisurely walking, plus a trolley ride through the garden district. Highlights of this portion include a nice couple who entertained us all with a drunken screaming match for the last 20 minutes of the ride. This includes the wife feeling up a 15-year-old boy and telling him all about how he should start playing the drums, screaming expletives at the husband for cheating on her and daring him to do it again, harassing a man who wouldn’t give her 50 cents, grabbing her hubby’s genitalia (through pants), and at one point stating something about Chocolate Chips Ahoy. It was one of those epic situations that can’t really be described, and will certainly never be duplicated, but it. was. epic. Both members of the couple were drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle and hitting up anyone who would listen for money. I bet they were going to spend that money on something nice, though. Like… more whiskey

-And now, I’m just chillin’ on the plane home with expired Dramamine, Coors Light, white wine, and the first non-fried food I’ve had in 4 days.

Cheers,

-Bev