Martin J. Gras- THE CONCLUSION

SUNDAY, 3:00 PM
We collect ourselves and head out of New Orleans, making our way across Mississippi (yes, I used spell check) and Alabamer, I was doing about 100 mph hour so I could hit our major stop, a SONIC-DRIVE IN!! EEEEEEEEEE!!!

"Sonic is essentially the Unicorn of fast food restaurants" my good friend Max Kotz once quipped, "I always see the commercials...but where the fuck are they?



Well, somewhere in the Florida panhandle lies a Sonic Drive-In.

IT BLEW MY FUCKING MIND

There is an outdoor seating area, similar to a Checker's, and each table has its own menu, similar to a drive-thru's, affixed to the table with an intercom system.

Also, the PARKING SPOTS HAVE THEIR OWN MENU'S WITH INTERCOMS ALSO! DAHH!!!!!!

YOU ORDER FROM YOUR CAR AND WAITRESSES COME ON ROLLER SKATES TO SERVE YOU!!

Typical fast food fare..tasted somewhat like Wendy's..but some interesting items...mozzarella sticks, jalapeno` poppers, ICE-CREAM SUNDAES!!

One thing I found particular interesting is their beverage selection. They have your typical sodas..but then A HUGE MENU OF MULTI-FLAVORED SYRUPS!!! SCHMEE!!

I HAD A COKE WITH LIME AND STRAWBERRY SYRUP AND IT MADE ME JIZZ



As we hit the road again, I called my Dad and tell him I was glad I went.

With my chronic anxiety and panic problems, I never thought I'd be able to do something like drive 24 hours, go to New Orleans and see a bitch slide up a pole only using the muscles of her asshole....

He agreed and reminded me that when I got back I had a shitload of studying to do. He was right, and I was on my way home...

MONDAY, 4 AM:

WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

As Brandon was driving, a tire flat-out POPPED, about 40 minutes away from school, near Boca, he pulled over and called roadside assistance.

The guy showed up pretty quickly, and informed me several things

1. He didn't have the tool to remove the spare tire from my car

2. Neither did I ( As he spoke I had a flashback of throwing my tool kit from my car in the garage back in New York to make room for some CHROME RIMS I was transporting....yup)

3.Because of this, the car would have to be towed

4. I didn't have insurance to cover the towing so it would be 5 dollars per mile till Miami costing me a total of two-hundred and fifty dollars.

5. I'm an idiot

MONDAY, 6:00 AM: the tow-truck guy arrived...he was a tall, rail-thin man with a black goatee and a ponytail, his arms and neck were covered in tattoos. His face was composed of blood shot eyes, a thin, skinny nose and teeth which reminded me of buttery popcorn..ew.

"HEY GUYS!! HEARD Y'ALL NEED SOME TOWING, LETS DO THIS THANG! LET'S MAKE IT QUICK THOUGH, BECUASE I'VE BEEN UP SINCE FRIDAY!! GET 'ER DONE!!!"

MONDAY: 800 AM: I watched the sun rise, not because I wanted to, but because this man was blasting Toby Keith all the way to Coral Gables. We finally arrived to campus at about 8:30 and I went to the ATM by the frat house to give this meth-head his cash. I collapsed. I have been in the Library studying for mid-terms since.

THE END



P.S. Honestly, it was a great experience, I got to spend time with some of my best friends, ate weird things, saw someone who I had been meaning to for awhile, and spent many hours in Alabama. I don't have any sexual tales, or acts of violence, but I'm happy. I'm sitting in class now, as this is the only free time I have to update, I still have one more test to go, and then I'll figure out what I'm gonna end up doing for Spring Break. In the mean time, I hope you all have gained something from my experience, and let this be a lesson: DO NOT DRIVE TO NEW ORLEANS.

My car ended up having $2,500 worth of damage and far outweighed the cost of flying...I'll be back to normal soon, and Tulane, you're always welcome at the U


THE REAL END.

MARDI GRAS RECAP PART 2

SATURDAY, 1:00 PM: After eating another conglomeration of fried seafood and bread, we head off to the parades, beads are thrown at ridiculous speeds and floats slink down the street adorned with satanic devil heads, blinking lights, and one float had KID ROCK on it....so this is what he's been up to

After about 2 beers and a half, I'm WASTED (In case you faithful readers didn't know, I'm a huge pussy)

Somehow, one of Jordan's college chums had lead us off the main parade route to a neighborhood, next thing I know we're in the backyard of one of these southern plantation homes I mentioned earlier, and a friendly woman in her mid-50s is serving us chili from a massive cauldron.
IT WAS LIKE HAROLD AND KUMAR

3 NEW YORK JEWS SITTING ON A BENCH IN A LOUISIANA BACKYARD, OSSIFIED DRUNK, IN THE MIDDLE OF A MARDI GRAS GARDEN PARTY..

The shapely, short haired hostess approaches us.

"Y'all the New Yorkers right?"
I think for 5 whole seconds before I form my genius rebuttal.
"Yes...yes we are"
"WELL...COME ON IN!"

She lead us through her expertly decorated home, showing us the former slave's quarters, her many porches that the former owner, a Confederate Four Star General (whatever) had sipped mint juleps, and

her master bedroom.

She leads us into the pink and orange boudoir, and leans into my ear, grasping my shoulder.

"There's something I wanted to show you..."
"Um..okay"

I'M ROCK HARD

She lifts her blanket and reveals a fat orange cat, purring in her sleep.

"THIS IS SCRUFFLES!.."

She then proceeds to eye my Star of David necklace.

"Say..where did you get that?"

I excuse myself and WE GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE

SATURDAY,9:00 PM: Many colleges come to Tulane to party during Mardi Gras, and engage in Co2 related madness. One particular encounter disgusted me. Clearly, I cannot make a generalization about an entire school, and I won't, but one semi-confrontation with douche bag from a particular southern school that attracts a large rich Jew crew confirmed my biases.

My friend Sam Friedfeld had been in a relationship until about mid way through last year. Although he's totally over it, it tends to creep up here and there.

AND ACTION!

*Sam, My cousin Jordan and I were on line to get a slice of pizza after drunkenly and aimlessly wandering around New Orleans, a group of kids in skinny jeans and tight v-necks are sitting on a bench across from the pizza line. They probably from NYC private school prior to college*

"YO FRIEDFELD...FRIEDFELD...YO...GET ME A SPRITE BRO?"

Sam turns his head in confusion and addresses the cocksucker

"Who..are you.."

"Well..I didn't wanna tell you before you got me the Sprite..but I'm (Fuck this Kid, He's not getting his name on my site/ not that I remember)___________!!!!!, I'm friends with (Sam's ex)!!!!! SO WHAT'S THE DEAL, BRO"

I see visible discomfort on Sam's face
My fist clenches
Sam speaks

"Oh..you're prob one of those kids who have fucked her right? hahah"

"hahahahah...uhh...haha..yea bro!" the Kid thinks he's in the clear

I wanted to shove a Sprite directly up this kid's ass but he had probably done that first semester. Hey, it's college, right?

As we walk away, Sam remembers that he had been fairly suspicious that this kid and his ex were more than just friends. But it's New Orleans, and none of us want to spend the remainder of the weekend in a Louisiana jail, having more teeth than all the men in the potential cell combined.

SUNDAY, 12:00 AM: We're in downtown New Orleans. Jordan addresses Sam and I with a warning:

"Alright before, we hit Bourbon Street, I want you both to know that what you see is fine, nothing's wrong, and people just don't give a fuck, just follow me, and we'll be okay"

We turn the corner

HOLY FUCKING BEAD THROWING SHIT!!! THE NARROW STREET IS PACKED WITH HUMANITY!!!

GIRLS FROM BALCONIES ABOVE ARE FLASHING THEIR TITS FOR BEADS AND DUDES ARE THROWING BEADS FROM BELOW TO GIRLS FLASHING THEIR TITS ON THE SIDEWALK

Men stop and stare but I was far too interested in something else.


Pat O' Brien's is a massive, multi-room bar in the heart of Bourbon Street, we waited on line to get in, and we waited on line to get in another room inside the bar.

The Piano Bar features two dueling pianists (heh) who will play any song you want, granted you can write the title on a napkin with a pen and slip in a dollar for tip. So naturally, I wanted to test this piano playing bitch out.

I HEARD "WHATEVER YOU LIKE" BY TI, SANG BY A SOUTHERN BELLE. PLAYING A GRAND PIANO!!

sure there were the standards, your elton john, your billy joel, BUT HEARING "MRS. OFFICER" COVERED ON PIANO WAS EYE-OPENING

We also went to Jordan's favorite strip club, and for the first time (probably only, in my life) saw a stripper slide UP a pole. The bitch defied gravity. Awesome.

It was about 4 AM, and Sam's flight was at 6, so we headed back to Tulane and bid him adieu`.

PART 3- THE CONCLUSION, COMING SOON