The Big Easy Ain't So Easy When You're 40

BoDerickus and some of his college roommates recently took a trip to New Orleans to celebrate the year we all became "a man".

If Mike Gundy believes, it so should you!

First, a side note: When I was in college with the guys mentioned above, I had a fraternity brother who wrote a comic strip for the school newspaper called "Lester Pace, Η Π" which was about a guy in a fraternity and his antics (and, as you can imagine, frequently raised the ire of the women's groups on campus). On a fairly frequent basis, the guy would write a comic strip about a funny incident that happened at the fraternity that only about 30 people on campus would understand. He once wrote a whole week worth of strips based on our pledge trip to the University of London (Ontario) that made no sense to anyone except the 20 guys who went on the trip. Anyway, I relay this story to you, my faithful readers, to let you know that this post will likely make no sense to you unless you happened to turn 40 this year and went to the Big Easy.  You were warned.

I only spank moose, no squirrel.

Some things I saw and/or learned around the French Quarter:

The Tigers spanked the Gators, but it didn't seem to matter to the Gators faithful after about midnight.

A cajun lady spanked a moose, and it liked it.  

You go up the balcony a stallion and come down a filly.

Walter points out some non-interesting tidbit he just made up

At the St. Louis Cemetery, there are three graves for Marie Laveau, the "Voodoo Queen" of New Orleans; people believe what they want to believe; grave robbers and illegal tour guides are a big problem and Walter can put you to sleep where you are standing.








The gay clubs look rowdy (and slightly scary).

Bourbon Street still smells like piss and stale beer (maybe people pissing stale beer).



The only things in the 9th Ward are empty lots, still damaged houses and (in the words of our concierge) goofy looking new houses that Brad Pitt built. See that house on the left? One BP built (or had built - I'm pretty sure Mr. "Ocean's Eleven" wasn't out there swinging a hammer). Kind of cool, but then look across the street and see this: 

 

Then it looks goofy and out of place, just like five 40ish white guys in a truck tooling around the 9th Ward.