You've asked for it...Dueller's Great Nola Central Lockup Adventure of 2010

[GWN7]

Subscribing

[RWebb]

Originally Posted by daepp

Something by Little Feat would be appropriate yes? Like Dixie Chicken,or Fat Man?

fiddle music, like in Deliverance

[Dueller]

But why New Orleans, you ask. Well its a reasonable driving distance from my home in Jackson, Mississippi. And its a fun party town notwithstanding the stale beer and fresh urine smells wafting from Bourbon Street alleys. But then there are a number of other destinations within a reasonable driving distance. Nola, however, sent out a certain siren's song to me for various reasons...I love the food, the architecture, the music. Little did I know when I embarked on this journey that the sirens would ultimately be accompanied by flashing blue lights.

My first wife introduced me in earnest to Crescent City. She was a demure Southern belle, a genteel debutante and a prim Ole Miss sorority girl. She had to be frequently reminded the Mayflower didn't land on the Talahatchie River in her beloved small Mississippi Delta town. But NOLA brought out the "Stella" in her...the sultry, passionate Stella from Street Car Named Desire. And apparently brought the Stanley out in me.

For her the seedy, dangerous, sensual city was liberating and erotic. I remember the almost visceral metamorphemis that occured when we would cross the Ponchatrain bridge heading south. Her inhibitions began to wane immediately signifying an adventure in the making.

And my second wife, the one responsible for my then shattered heart, enjoyed the city as well. During our cousrtship we spent various fun times there. Those good times came to a halt shortly after the realities of married life set in. Add to that my discovery (on FaceBook, no less!) she went to NOLA the week after our separation and was spotted partying on Bourbon street, I was bound and determined to show her, or atleast myself, that I, too, could appreciate debauchery on a grand scale.

It was the Thursday before the long Labor Day weekend of 2010 that my trek began. A close friend and her new beau were staying in his apartment on St. Charles in the Quarter. Why not come down and get out of town for the long weekend? And, oh by the way, the heiress is coming down as well. She thought I'd enjoy meeting her and she could use someone to squire her around being that she was freshly unattached since her construction magnate boyfriend had been indicted for vehicular manslaughter. Along with his wife. Who was pregnant. Who am I to deny comfort to a woman scorned?

Now my host was known to me by his reputation alone. A minor author of two thinly veiled tell all books about the dark side of Delta society, he was an aging trust fund baby from one of the oldest Mississippi cotton plantation families. He had been excommunicated from that society partly for the books, but also for using the crop dusting air strips on the family farm for a thriving import business involving high quality herbal remedies in the late '70s.

Its with this scenario that a long weekend in the Big Easy seemed like a stellar plan.

I mean, what could possibly go awry?

[Icemaster]

Bat country.

[recycled sixtie]

This has all the intrigue of Washington without the politicians.

[red-beard]

Originally Posted by recycled sixtie

This has all the intrigue of Washington without the politicians.

Yeah, but the smell is worse...

Oh and NOLA has politicians. The best money can buy!

[dafischer]

An excellent read, so far. You've got my attention, sir.

[silverc4s]

Subscribed, No bad NOLA stories..

re: "Confederacy of Dunces"

[Dueller]

Originally Posted by silverc4s

Subscribed, No bad NOLA stories..

re: "Confederacy of Dunces"

Just call me Ignatius

[Mrmerlin]

so one of these installments of info a day eh?
Come on Dueller, please add more to each installment

[Dueller]

Prior to leaving for NOLA, I got the heiress' phone number and called her to see if she wanted to ride down together. She feigned an excuse that she wouldn't be able to leave as early as I wanted to, that she might have to cut the weekend short and come back early so she needed her car, yadadada. In reality she didn't want to be stuck if we turned out to not hit it off. Perfectly understandable.

The drive down I-55 was uneventful. No smokies since they were all apparently off resting for the upcoming high traffic holiday weekend. Good for me as I was averaging about 85-90 mph with very light traffic. In any event the windshield time did me some good. Organized my thoughts and getting excited about doing something different. Coming to grips with the death throes of my marriage. Almost stopped in Manshak at Mittendorf's fo their waifer thin fried catfish but thought the better of it since I was making such good time. Anyway, parking and traffic would be horrible since the Saint's were playing their season opener. Needed to get there early enough to snag a parking spot in an overpriced lot somewhere between the Superdome and the apartment of my hosts. Got off on Canal Street and quickly threaded my way down Rampart and snagged a spot in a commecial lot on corner of Conti and Rampart.

Touched base with the heiress and she was about 45 minutes behind. Found a rollicking bar near the parking lot. Didn't know exactly where the apartment was and the hosts had already left for the pregame festivities. So the plan was for the heiress to find a place to park, meet me at the bar for a few pre-game drinks and maybe some food, then amble over to 'dome. Post game we were gonna hook up with our hosts, celebrate in the Quarter then back to the apartment to crash.

Unfotunately by the time heiress arrrived in quarter she had a helluva time finding a parking spot. But ultimately found a spot in the same lot I was in. Great but I had been in the revelry for nearly 2 hours by the time she arrived. We hit it off great and she did a good job of catching up with me. We wouldn't be able to stagger to the game for kick-off and had made many new friends in the crowded bar, so we made the command decison to sell our tickets and stay put. In hindsight the trek to the dome and fresh air would have been a much wiser choice. But, hey, we were $150 richer in our party kitty.

Its Nawlins. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

[speeder]

The mother was a lot better looking than those daughters. Just sayin'...

[genrex]

My face hurts from grinning and laughing! You are a mad genius!

And we're only three installments into... God only knows where...

_

[tevake]

Nothing like a serial story filled with intrigue and debauchery.
subbed

[dafischer]

I like debauchery...it's something I'm very good at.

[craigster59]

Well, so far you didn't make it into the game so the arrest wasn't for assault on "Saint Gumbo"...

[Dueller]

WARNING!!! WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ CONTAINS HIGHLY IRRESPONSIBLE AND UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR. EVEN FOR NEW ORLEANS. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.(AND TRY NOT TO HOLD ANY OF THIS AGAINST ME)

I'll skip the blow by blow of the level of irresponsible consumption of adult beverages. Suffice to say the proceeds from the scalped tickets barely made a dent in my bar tab. And this is a tale of misadventure...not an article from The Wine Spectator. Besides, I can't even begin to remember the varieties of alcoholic beverages consumed that night. I do remember finding weeks later in my car multiple 32 oz plastic go cups with the sticky red remains of some rum/tequilla/vodka concotion smelling oddly of turpentine. But in my defense, I never hurled. Nor did the heiress. Likely because we never got around to eating. What a gal. Since she was playing it coy even though there was an attraction, it became apparent that she wasn't likely giving up the cookie on our first date. So she tacitly gave me the go ahead to not be concerned with whiskey dick. Like I said... What a gal.

IIRC the Saints won that night. It would not have mattered as, much like my alma mater, the motto of a Saints' fan is "We may not win every game, but we've never lost a party." And party we did...until the well past midnite.

Now I'll admit I was distraught over my failed mariage. And although I avoid medications, particularly psychotropics for emotional issues, my trusted doctor friend convinced me to get on some anti-depressants due to my "situational depession." Against my better judgement I had begun taking Celexa or some such SSRI about 2 weeks earlier. Due to my busy schedule, I hadn't quite got aound to read the warnings about not consuming alchohol while on this crap. In any event, the warnings are valid regarding exacerbating the effects of alcohol. Nuff said. Hunter S. has entered the building.

We ultimately end up meeting our hosts back at their apartment. Beautiful place only two blocks from where we parked. And lo and behold there is a parking spot right in front of their place. Ever the Southern gentleman, I volunteer to go back to the lot with my date to pick up our bags and bring her car back to the spot at the apartment. She demurs preferring to leave her car in off street parking. That settled, off we traipse to retrieve my car/our luggage. We poured two stiff "strollers" (cocktails for the stroll). Arriving at the lot we gather her bags, throw them in my car and out of the lot we go.

[Mrmerlin]

Dohh this isnt gonna be good............... out of the pan and into the fire

[jshape]

Anxiously awaiting the next installment!

[Dueller]

Now I ask you....do you think you could see the "one way" sign...at night...while hallucinating? This is the exit fom the parking lot onto Conti Ave.

(My Defense Exhibit D-2 in the trial...yup there is a trial albeit not until early 2012)