- Apr 13, 2002
- Reaction score
Okay...this is the best time to post this since I'm not the soberest sbering seober dude right now. So let's hear them, over text..type them and we'll all share in the sharefest of the sharing...file sharing? Huh? POST@!@@@
Spoilered...long storyNew Orleans, 1 year pre-Katrina. Four of my friends and I decide to partake in the nightlife and see what the hell is the big deal with NO and how many boobies we could see for some cheap plastic beads.
Now my friends...they were all about trying to see some streetside boobage...but I heard about this glorious strip club that had a pole that ran all the way down from the 2nd floor to the 1st...I had to see it.
We're already saucy from a good deal of Grey Goose mixed drinks from back at the hotel...so by the time we get to the strip club we're in W00t mode. Its my birthday so I'm not caring...I get in there, kill Long Island after LI and next thing I know I'm getting a lapdance and I'm smoking a cigar...which I have zero idea of how I procured, at all. But hey, it was there, I smoked it and life was good.
We stumble out of the strip club and start walking down Bourbon St...I'm barely conscious. My friend buys me a hand grenade and that is pretty much the last thing I remember.
continued...According to my friends, and the video journal...they lost me around 2am. From 2am to 6am...they went to 2 hospitals...3 police stations and pretty much every single street in downtown New Orleans looking for me. They have videotape of themselves walking up and down the street calling my name. At first...the streets are full of people...but as the night turns to early morning...the streets turn barren. They informed me later that I kept wandering off and finally vanished from their sight. They gave up the search around 6am and drove back to where we were staying...which was an hour away by highway.
7am...I wake up. I look around and have the most horrible feeling...I have zero idea where I am. I look down at my clothes and there is a coat...a women's coat, draped across me like a blanket. I stand up, check for my wallet...got it. Check for my cell phone...got it...but its dead. The standing up really fast thing wasn't such a good idea...so I sat back down for about 15 or so minutes trying to sort out what the hell happened.
I had flashes of me wandering into some club...going to the back of the club...then walking out of the club...and then :blank:
So I said fuqit...I had to get back to my hotel somehow (which was an hour away). So from the random street corner that I woke up on I hopped a cab to the airport and from the airport took a shuttle back to my hotel (which was an hour away...and cost me 60 bucks).
The next Monday at work...my bosses kept telling me that I'm lucky to be alive...that they eat people alive down there...that I'm lucky I wasn't kidnapped/killed/raped/sodomized/gutted/cornholed/pinksocked/brained/gottenjiggiedwith/etc.
All I cared about was that my hangover lasted for about 2 - 3 days afterwards...and that I'd never go back to New Orleans without a leash.