Current mood: intense
I'd like to say that you're my only fear
And when I dream, it slowly disappears
And when I awake, I'm right here by your side
To feel your heart beat in and out of time
~ "My Only Fear" by Angels and Airwaves
Parking near City Park is a trick – as there are over 10,000 other people also trying to park for the shows. But Ali-Son is a miracle worker and she found us parking within 6 blocks – PLUS it was free. We climbed out of the Hyundai, complimented her on her parallel parking skills, and started walking toward the park. Thanks to the White Russian daiquiri and the Sex on the Beach shot from Mango Mango, I was well on my way to being quite the happy concert-goer. As we are walking, I told my companions that I desperately needed to go to the bathroom. I believe my exact words were "seriously y'all, I gotta pee". Every house we passed, I was tempted to pay the owner for the use of their facilities. I believe there was also a short discussion about using someone's potted planter as a loo – but my plan was vetoed by common decency.
Finally we were in line for the festival. I could see the row or clean porta potties right past the guy handing out wristbands. When he secured mine on my left wrist I commented how these were so much better than last year's, which were tearable. Not "terrible" but "tear-able" as in able to be torn. Of course, I felt obligated to explain what I meant and the guy was laughing at me. The helpful Voodoo volunteers handed us a band schedule and we were in!
Armed with antibacterial wipes, the sunglasses I purchased in Columbia, and a full bladder, I made my first of MANY visits to the bathroom. Ali-Son and Roly Poly Nicoly were patiently waiting when I returned to them a few short minutes later. Our first stop was the Frozen Daquiri stand where we purchased our first of MANY Hurricanes. We perused a few booths before heading over to the Main Stage where we met up with Ali-Son's cousin to watch Angels and Airwaves. They were very good. And I never realized how good looking the lead singer was until I saw them live.
The rest of the afternoon was filled with music and vendors and more alcohol. We left the park to head back to the French Quarter so we could enjoy a very expensive seafood dinner – also known as Prince Charles (Shrimp Charles). Our waiter was from Mississippi and had a southern drawl which could make a girl's heart melt. I think I would have followed him through Hell had he asked. He called me Darlin', Sweetheart, and Love. I was lost. I eventually ran out of reasons to call him over to our table.
The table next to us was occupied by 3 guys our age. They were also having Shrimp Charles. This led the 6 of us to begin engaging in conversation. One of the guys had just moved to New Orleans from Southern California. The other two had helped him move and were returning home on Sunday. They were drinking beer (beer which tasted awful, I may add, since I asked for a taste of it). We were drinking shots. We forcefully requested they join us.
Soon, California Guy, Big Brother, and Chico were buying us more shots and chatting away. California Guy and I eventually began exchanging insults, much to the entertainment of our friends. Drunk or not, I can still hold my own in a battle of wit and sarcasm. Finally, we were ready to leave and go enjoy us some Stone Temple Pilots! As we said our goodbyes and I paid a bill which was beyond exorbitant, CG asked for my digits (after being prompted several times by his friend and brother). I made some comment about him being lucky I was drinking as my standards were lower than normal. He responded with, "Actually, you're lucky I have no standards at all". Laughing, I gave him my cell phone number and assumed I'd never hear from him again.
We went back to City Park in time to see STP take the stage. Scott Weiland put on one hell of a show. Not doing Heroin has been good for him. He has gained some weight and his voice has improved. I don't know how many more beers and hurricanes we drank; but eventually the show was over and it was time to find the car. Thank goodness Ali-Son has a built-in compass in her head. She led us through a very dark City Park, over the bridge, through the neighborhood and directly to the Hyundai. Roly Poly Nicoly and I were less than sober and found the entire trek extremely humorous. We kept making comments about uneven sidewalks (which they were), potted plants (which were everywhere), and how badly I had to go to the bathroom. Seriously, I must have peed 15 times at the show and still had to go.
On the way back to the apartment I received a text from CG and his friends. They were on Bourbon Street. They were drunk. They wanted us to join them. We declined out of sheer exhaustion. Back at the apartment, we crashed . . . and I was once again reminded how much I love beds and hate sleeping mats. Grrrrrrrrrr.
This concludes Disk B. Please insert Disk C to continue . . .
