The Delta House

I know that it is the day after Fat Tuesday, and Mardi Gras is already over, but I was way too busy to post this yesterday. So bite me if you don't like it.

I have been fortunate enough to have gone to Mardi Gras twice, both times while I was at FSU. New Orleans is only about a seven-hour drive from Tallahassee, a veritable stone's throw for a party like Mardi Gras.

One Thursday night during my freshman year (1989), my best friend R.E. called and asked me if I wanted to go to New Orleans for the weekend. Well, I had a mid-term on Monday, but this seemed like a good excuse to just blow that off, so I said, "sure, why not." He then told me how his NJ girlfriend's sister, who was at Arizona State had called him minutes before and invited him to her roommates house in NO for Mardi Gras. She said that it would be cool to bring me along too.

Of course when he came to pick me up on Friday afternoon, he was followed by another car with three other guys in it. At first I thought that they were just following us there, and they had their own place to stay, but that wasn't the case. And speaking of case, I drank a case of beer in the car on the way to NO, and my buddy wouldn't pull over so I could take a leak, so I cut the top of a beer can off, pissed in it, and tossed out of the window as we sped along I-10.

When we finally got there, I was half in the bag and our hostess was none to happy to see that there were five of us and not two. Nevertheless, she let us stay the night after we got her silly drunk. We went the Dixie Brewery, and some clubs down near Tulane before calling it a night.

The next day, we went down to the French Quarter to see some titties, errrrr, parades. I remember us walking through the mall that is attached to the Superdome carrying a twelve-pack and drinking the whole time. We left our empties in the hands of store mannequins. We went down to the Hard Rock Cafe and ate Pig sandwiches, then headed back to Bourbon Street.

We were in line outside of Pat O’Brien’s for what seemed like 3 days when this kid decided to cut in line in front of us. Well, we were pretty schnockered at this point and weren't really up for fighting, so we just let him be. A New Orleans police officer came over and grabbed the arm and told him to go to the back of the line. The kid said that he had been there all night, so the cop looked to us to verify. We, of course, denied him.

The cop pulled at his arm again and told him to move it. The kid pulled away from the cop and told him to let him go. The cop very calmly put on a pair of black leather gloves, pulled his right arm back behind him and threw a right hook that connected with with this stupid kids eye. Before the kid could hit the ground, he looked like Mitch Green after Tyson jacked him in Harlem.

We, of course, saw nothing. The cop grabbed the kid by the collar and dragged him down to the paddy wagon. It was unbelievable.