Bourbon Street

I just flew in from New Orleans, and boy, are my arms tired! Guck, guck, guck; That never gets old.

Hubby and I took the kids there for spring break. We stayed on Bourbon Street, because that’s the kind of parents we are.  (We also had the Voodoo Daiquiri from Jean Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shoppe.  The Voodoo Daiquiri’s other name is Purple Drank for some vague reason having to do with Everclear.  That’s ALSO the kind of parents we are.)

Anywho…as soon as we dropped off the luggage in our hotel room, we were out ON Bourbon Street, introducing the kids to the magic.

Now let’s pause here and recall how the weirdest stuff happens to me all the time – and how Sissy has been apprenticing with me in recent years so I can teach her how it goes. Yay, Mini Me!  Also, Hubby and Sonny always walk a minimum two blocks ahead of us for some reason.  Go figure.

Given that back story, is it any wonder that within our first sixty seconds on Bourbon Street, a woman on the complete other side of the street begins to beeline for us, holding her beer-in-a-plastic-cup out in front of her like she’s in some sort of relay race.

As she stumbles across the cobblestones towards us, Sissy and I are mesmerized into a standstill, watching her come closer.

Just when she reaches us, she trips on some uneven pavement and her sandaled foot SPLASHES into one of those charming brown Bourbon Street puddles. Even though we’re on the sidewalk awaiting her arrival, the splash is so massive that the nasty water goes ALL OVER Sissy’s flip-flopped feet and ankles. GAACK!

The puddle this woman stepped in apparently contained an even deeper puddle, and we’re all horrified, the strange woman included, heavy on the strange, to see her foot sink to mid-shin. GAAAACK!!!

As she tries to right herself, she GRABS MY ARM, HOLDS ME TO HER and flounders into an even deeper puddle than the first. Because I’m now attached to this woman as an unwilling participant in her three-legged beer run, I get the secret sauce this time around.  Up to my knees. GAAAAAAAACK!!!!

Eventually she’s back up on solid land, whereupon she lets go of me and stumbles on, laughing with her friends, not having spilled a drop of beer. Sissy and I are left clutching each other and making retching noises as brown water drips down our legs and everyone on Bourbon Street gives us a wide berth like WE’RE the ones causing the problem.  Per usual, Hubby and Sonny are nowhere to be found.

By the time I’m finally able to convince Sissy that the water most likely does not contain human feces (although she’s had a Hep C shot, so she’s good either way), we’ve caught up with Sonny and Hubby and relate the horrifying goings-on.  I’m PISSED that Hubby left me with nothing but a teenage girl as a barrier to the lunacy so I give him what for.

At which point he turns to Sissy and says, “Look. I’ve seen this movie before.  So it’s best to walk with a purpose.  If you hang back with her – here he hitches his thumb my way – she’s gonna draw you into her vortex.  Every time.”

Oh, so somehow this is MY fault. In which case: You’re welcome, Mini Me.

I taught that girl everything she knows.

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