New Orleans – Night 2 (of 3)
Morning. I discovered that New Orleans pigeons subsist on a diet of spilled beer and powdered sugar. I’d swear the birds at the Cafe Dumonde were stoned. One of them was walking around with a piece of fuzzy rope or something on his head making him look a lot like a rastafarian pigeon. It was weird and the next cell phone I buy will have a camera so I can proove I’m not making this up.
Evening. Lost $20 playing the nickel slots in the casino. Hrumph. The casino giveth, the casino bleedeth you dry. Gave up and went back to Bourbon Street. Kind of bored with it all. Feet hurt from walking all day. Vowed not to drink anything this time – too much money for an unknown mixture of alcohol and water. Still po’d that a “shot girl” stole my change the night before so out of spite I was not going to extract test tube shots from anywhere. That would teach them. We met up with another convention guy about the time we were going to give up and go back to the hotel. He liked buying drinks. Curse him. Went back to the cover bands (still loud). More unattainable women – as pushy as they were pretty. Avoided them successfully. Of course it helped that the other convention guy I was standing beside was a six foot plus thin good looking well dressed guy with good hair that I was really starting to despise. Suddenly I wanted the pretty unattainable shot women to at least offer and give me the chance to turn them down. I mean, like, HOW RUDE. Wandered out into the street. It was colder but ironically more breasts. Really, a bunch of Mardi Gras wannabes. The least I could do was watch – I didn’t want to be the one spoiling their fantasy. Went back to a place from yesterday where I thought shot girls were a really good idea. One was very very nice and I realized I couldn’t hold her accountable for the rude ones at other establishments – I mean that wouldn’t be very nice. I said no. I said no. I said see me next time around. My group left. CURSE THEM. Finished drinking. Went to another establishment. Drank more. Sang. Sang? Sang.
One more night to go. Oh yeah, DAY, I mean one more day of conference to go.