Jan 11, 2007 4:34 PM – Ah the Big Easy. Not only was it Lazlo’s nickname in college, it is also the affectionate moniker for one of the world’s greatest drunken cities, New Orleans. And seeing as it has been some time since I live-blogged one of my drunken Kerouacian trips, what better a city for me to pull a Jay-Z and reclaim my throne.
I know it sounds strange, but I have never been to new orleans. I know you must be saying to yourslef, “But Lazlo, how could a party god such as yourself never taken a booze-addled step in the Crescent City?” I have no answer except I am sorry and I will never let it happen again. I will do my best to make up for lost time over this long weekend.
16 months ago, I sat there like most of you did, and watched the horrible images come out of the South. How could the White Sox win the world series? Where was the goverment to put a stop to it? Then Katrina hit. Most of the time I am too busy waging a jahid on my liver to notice storms, but this one affected me. I did not seem real. It seemed like some scene that was cut from Hotel Rwanda except it was happening at the site of glorious Super Bowl XX. Hollowed grounds were tainted before I had the chance to make a pilgrimage. Even my parents had been to New Orleans. So when a business associate who grew up in New Orleans told me she was getting a group of entertainment execs together to go down to New Orleans to build some houses and hit up Bourbon Street, let’s just say I responded a bit quicker then FEMA.
So I am off to the LAX to catch a flight to New Orleans to build some homes, drink some hand grenades and live-blog this bitch just for you. Blackberry don’t fail me now.
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Jan 11, 2007 4:43 PM – So I arrive at LAX amid protests in anticipation of the arrival of the President of Taiwan and I am reminded of a little tradition that Lou and I have before we head off on one of our little adventures. We get fucked up. See I don’t like to fly so we use the 2 hours we spend are the airport pre-flight getting what the british call Pissed. We treat the airport like our own personal tailgate. Sometimes we even bring a grill. So I arrive at the United terminal and head directly to the Karl Strauss to spend some time with my good buddy, John Daniels. God I love that guy.
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Jan 11, 2007 5:42 PM – Something just occured to me. People call New Years Eve “amateur night.” We save the Olympics for amateurs. So New Years Eve is the Olympics of partying thank you very much. Btw I have had 6 jack and cokes and am with my girl lauren who set this trip up. We are getting on the plane and I will see you Sorry Drunks in the Creole City.
Jan 11, 2007 5:55 PM – By the way, United is so the Anti-Southwest. I have not seen one wifebeater or styrofoam cooler. Classy.
Jan 11, 2007 9:57 PM – Movie on the plane was LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE. What a fucking great movie. Not sure if it was the compelling story or wonderfull acting or the 2 bloody marys but this flick got to me.
Landing in new orleans I am reminded how much of a mixed bag this city is. White people stick out while people of different shapes and sizes seem to be the norm. I grab a beer by baggage claim. This is going to be fun.
Jan 11, 2007 11:23 PM – So I get to my hotel, which is located at the coner of Canal and Bourbon, and toss my bags in my room to hit the streets. For those of you not familar with the city, Canal and Bourbon would be like being at the coner of Times and Square in New York.
I am noway a good enough writer to describe Bourbon Street. It is everything I stand for and so much more. It is a breathtaking vista of sin and vice. It is a little after 2am local time and it may as well be noon. After walking all the way up and down Bourbon Street with my mouth wide open as gazing at the awesomeness, I hit up a place called Jesters for a slice and 2 huge Coors Lights. It is on.
Jan 11, 2007 11:26 PM – Next stop is a little hole in the wall of off Bourbon called Johnny White’s. I am drawn to its dollar beer sign like the tractor beam on the Death Star. This town is crazy about the Saints. It is all anyone can talk about. If they win on Saturday I am pretty sure this may have some sort of frozen drink explosion. It is way more then a game to these people. They bleed it down here in a way that is hard to explain. Down here, the Saints are a reminder and an escape. If the Eagles have the balls to win, I may kill Jeff Garcia just out of respect. My bartender Scottie reeks of the city. It is awe inspiring.
Jan 11, 2007 11:58 PM – Being able to walk down the street with a drink is like skydiving. It is a reminder of what it means to feel alive. I need to move somewhere where open containers are a way of life.
Jan 12, 2007 12:00 AM – They have a funnel at the bar. I am offically in heaven.
Jan 12, 2007 12:02 AM – So I leave Johnny White’s out of my mind fucked up. This brings to mind a simple point. People do not walk down Bourbon Street. The pretty much lean forward and let gravity take over. MIT should do a study on it. It defies scientific law.
Jan 12, 2007 11:14 AM – I wake up at the crack of noon feeling like I got my head bashed in by a baseball bat. I can already hear music pouring in my room from down the street. Even though I feel like shit, the allure of the city is to great to resist. I quickly shower, pop some wake up pills, and hit the street. My first stop is Sammy’s Seafood and steak for some blackened chicken refried beans and rice washed down with a healthy dose of beer.
Jan 12, 2007 12:26 PM – Food mmmmmm. Serious grubage in this town. I plan on adding about 50 pounds to the old Laz man by the end of this weekend. I find another Johnny White’s. At first I am pissed at the thought that I spent all last night in a chain bar as apposed to the dive I thought I was in. Then I realize the one last night was just an offshoot of this one. Even better, this one was the only bar on Bourbon Street to remain open 24 hours a day during Katrina. Seeing as this is my off day, I consider attempting to spend 24 hours at the bar in tribute.
Jan 12, 2007 12:50 PM – New Orleans is a surprisingly rasict town. Not so much in a behind closed doors hateful way, but in a “you’re different then I am and that just the way it is,” way. Both horrifing and refreshing. Strange.
Jan 12, 2007 1:19 PM – So I just had to handle a biz emergency back in LA. If you ever have the chance to do business over the phone drunk in a bar on Bourbon Street I highly recommend it. Also, there is a Moose head at Johnny White’s named Moose-o-Lini. He is quoted as saying, “You have not partied til you pooped your pants.”. Somewhere, Lou is smiling.
Jan 12, 2007 2:24 PM – So it is 4:20 and I feel the need to comment. It is strange, this city has a rhythm and a pulse to it like no other. It is the only city I have been to the defies comparison. You feel it when you walk down the street. Something in the air here affects you in a way that makes you lose yourself. I have to pee.
Jan 12, 2007 3:14 PM – So after 4 hours at Johnny White’s I decide to venture out into the city. After walking around for 20 minutes and helping to bust a shoplifter, I stagger into a place I like to call, “random bar with a blues band.” I like to call it that cause it was a random bar with a blues band. My plan to sober up is derailed by a shot a Jager and a beer that comes in a cup that says “Huge Ass Bourbon Street Beer.” Nuff said.
Jan 12, 2007 4:16 PM – So at random blues bar # whatever, I met the coolest crackhead in town. He adopts me as his surrogate Angelina Jolie and we have conversations that blow my fucking mind. When I run away from him, he chases me down to give me a cig. What a guy. I hang on Bourbon Street long enough to have someone sell me coke. HOW AWESOME IS THIS TOWN? I am now in the shitter of a 5 star restaurant trying to get my shit together enough to host a dinner.
Jan 13, 2007 9:30 AM – I lost a decent chunk of my night. At one point I was sleeping under a truck about 2 miles from Bourbon Street think about that. Not only did I get 2 miles away from where I was, but I tried to sleep in the gutter under a duellie. I would love to give you all the details of my night, but I ain’t got them. There was dinner, then Pat O’Briens, then me asleep under a truck. And some asshole did all my coke.
Jan 13, 2007 4:36 PM – We spend half the day on a tour of the devastation. To say it is mind blowing would be an insult to the destruction of grey matter. Block after block just gone. We stop at one of the houses and get to the gutting. Gutting is when you break down a house to the 2 by 4 and pitch everything else. My girl Lauren points across the street at what used to be her grandmothers house. The entire thing, for lack of a better word, is sobering. I will remember what I am seeing as much as I will not remember last night. I need, hell, this whole town needs a drink.
Jan 14, 2007 11:56 AM – So, after me and my friend Cory have 6 Jack and Cokes and watch his Colts beat the Ravens, we head to dinner at a little joint called Mothers. This place took away 5 years off my life and added 50 pounds to my weight. We are now watching the end of the saints game with a healthy dose of liquor.
[Read Lazlo's Conclusion HERE]
You gotta’ go to LaFiets (sp?) Tavern, further down on Bourbon; History & beer…….and don’t forget to get sum o’ dat ABITA beer off the tap while in the ‘quarter & Pat O’s for the real-deal Hurricain
psHandgrenades are for bitches-it’s all about the frozen drinks with everclear in ‘em.