We went back to the area around the Quarter on Saturday for breakfast at La Peniche and to look around St. Louis #1, one of New Orleans' finest big scary cemeteries.
"I like grits!" Siobhan declared over breakfast. That made my day right there. These Yankees will learn how to eat someday, I guess.
And here's Becky, commenting on the rather spartan protestant section of St. Louis #1:
"The protestant section sucks!"
Yes it does, Becky. Yes it does.
Then we went shopping at all the hipster stores along Magazine before going back to the house for a round of naps. These turned out to be pre-dinner naps, as we went and ate sushi after we woke up. I stuffed myself like a pelican.
Back to the house for grooming and drinking.
I got the coolest shirt on Friday, y'all. It's the standard black hipster young person type shirt, but the front is plaid and it has this photograph on one side of an Asian chick in a little schoolgirl outfit showing her ass. It's very dirty. I wore it.
I also had on vinyl pants and the black fingernail polish, which the lady cabdriver loved.
"Can I touch your pants?" she said, rubbing my knee.
"Look at your nails!" she screeched when I went to pay her. She was the best cabdriver ever.
Siobhan and Becky had only one stated goal for their trip to New Orleans.
"We want to get stinking, roaring, falling-down drunk," Siobhan told me, "at least once."
So that's what we did.
We got a hurricane for the girls when we found out we were too late to go on a haunted history tour. We were too late, though, so we walked through the gayness of Decadence at Bourbon and St. Ann before stopping at Lafitte's for a round of drinks.
"Shot of chartreuse," Siobhan ordered. Then we all took turns sipping on it and agreeing that yes, it does taste like shit. Green, minty, overpowering shit. Poppy Brite - an author who once espoused chartreuse - is obviously full of shit.
We left there, walked down Royal and went to the Shim Sham. Siobhan and Becky are used to New York drink prices - so they squealed with delight when they found out pints of PBR were only a quarter.
We drank a lot of them.
We walked down to the Dervish - formerly the Crow Bar - and had another round of drinks. Dancing was considered. We were on our way to boogie when Becky turned a bit green. We changed course to Krystal, where we inhaled a bunch of little square burgers and decided to call it a night.