The Big Easy: Part 2

(Just side noting that I’m writing this as I listen to Steal My Girl for the – not kidding – 127th time today so.)

Molly & I at Cafe du Monde
Molly & I at Cafe du Monde, post lady meltdown

Well, Thursday started off very interesting for us. In anticipation for THE BIG DAY (also known as One Direction Day), Molly & I woke up about 3 hours after we had planned to (thanks, Bourbon) and quickly put on some normal outfits – which is a huge deal when you’re used to t-shirts & shorts every day – and made our way downstairs to meet Ginnie & Keith at Cafe du Monde. Let me just say, I love the atmosphere of “Nawlins” and I especially love all the walking. Getting to soak in everything that’s going on in New Orleans and the smells of delicious food is so fun and refreshing, you can’t help but try and take it all in at once.

One fun thing Molly and I got to “soak up” was a completely delusional woman who decided to follow us for two blocks, screaming about how we rape babies, are 4’11, 17 and 19 years old and attend Loyola, where she’s going to commit a huge massacre and apparently knows a lot about us that we had no idea about ourselves. And I mean followed us – I could practically feel her breath on my neck as she hurried along after us. Because I’m maybe not the most serious person on the planet, I giggled the entire time and of course didn’t turn around and acknowledge her, but Molly and I muttered a string of commentary to each other the entire time. In hindsight, it probably frustrated her even more that we didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t make a scene, and waved like the Queen of England to all of our sympathizers. Lots of people shouted at her and were very nice to us, apologizing for her behavior and hoping we had better days. It should go without saying that Molly and I are most certainly not “baby rapists” (honestly what in the hell???????) nor are we any of the aforementioned things. However, at that point, neither of us had coffee and usually by 11 a.m. I’ve had two cups, so when we got to Cafe du Monde and she followed us around the entire patio still screaming and causing a scene, I had had enough. Like, seriously, bye. Adios. Get out. Enough. So I approached a man in an apron and said, “Hi, we don’t know this lady and she’s been following us for two blocks, is there anything you could do?”

And his response, AND I QUOTE, was: “Oh…you don’t know her?”

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!what?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

I like to think of myself as a pretty normal looking person and not someone who looks like they keep company with someone who runs around screaming “murder” and “baby rapists” in public in broad daylight or, for that matter, ever. But when I turned around, he had shooed her out and the very nice women who ran the place huddled us into a corner to protect us and insisted we sit down and enjoy some breakfast while they called security and basically ran homegirl off. My parents agreed with our theory upon their arrival: “This would only happen to us.” This is also where we met CJ, who came right up to us post-homegirl fiasco and asked all about it. We’d later randomly find him on Bourbon and strike up an even more exciting friendship.

The rest of the day proved virtually uneventful. We did some touring with my mom and around 1, separated so she and Keith could go on a boat tour while Molly and I went to lunch at SoBou, which was located at The W Hotel (yes where One Direction was staying…), and it was so freaking good. Like I’m not sure any burger I ever have again in my life will be that good. Ever. Or drinks. They also had 25 cent martinis pretty much all day a.k.a. “happy hours” but I didn’t try any, instead opting for a Shady Blonde which I put down in about 10 minutes.

Shady Blonde
Shady Blonde

Apparently while we were eating, One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer were heading to the stadium because about every five to ten minutes, the girls outside would scream their little hearts out. Which, I should mention, Molly and I tried to walk through the rest of the restaurant to offer our extra seats to the concierge to help us sell and the lady was more than happy to let us walk right into the garage where the boys were leaving from. Maybe don’t let people do that? It would have been so easy for me to just hop into one of the SUVs or “casually walk right into Harry Styles’ heart” if I so chose. I didn’t. Because I’m mature. And was also a little tipsy.

Apparently when I’m tipsy/drunk, I run really far away from famous people. I think this is a good thing.

Not even half of the girls outside of the hotel...
Not even half of the girls outside of the hotel…

I’d also like to take a moment to give a big round of applause to the moms and dads (!!!) who waited all day and all night outside of a hotel or up and down New Orleans for their daughters. Y’all deserve an award. Although, judging by all of the parents in the bar at SoBou, I think they rewarded themselves. The rest of the day passed boringly, with Molly and I spending most of our time wandering in and out of shops on Chartres and avoiding eye contact with the strippers every two feet on Bourbon. No offense, but no, I do not need a new job at Lipstixxx, thank you much though.

Before long, Molly and I were back in our hotel, ordering salads and chicken wings and getting ready to enjoy a VERY eventful night at Mercedes-Benz Superdome……….But One Direction and all of their glory will have to wait until next Monday. Post-concert was spent up and down Bourbon Street with CJ, where we still avoided stripper-eye-contact and tried to get Molly into a few bars (this was successful and unsuccessful………only a few people in NOLA care if you’re actually 21). I discovered piña colada daiquiris to-go and this was my heaven. I would go back, just for those. Can we just appreciate New Orleans’ open container laws? Like, bless you, great city, that I, as a 21 year old, can order a piña colada like a smoothie and not stay in your weird-smelling chicken wings shop and instead take in the neon and craziness of the streets. Much gratitude. Our night would be topped off by Uncle Steve, who spent about an hour and a half teaching me to play pool and scratching and losing on purpose to make me feel better about how freaking bad I am at pool. It’s embarrassing. Thanks for making it easier, my dude.

Tomorrow, I’ll be posting a collection of the outfits I wore (cause they were s’cute, duh) and Thursday is all about our last day. These NOLA posts are gonna go for a while – next week there will be a very sentimental and cheesy post about One Direction, Where We Are, and Wayne, the VIP WWA bartender who got me drunk around 12 year olds. (YOU ROCK WAYNE). xx

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