| Week One |
| The pick-up: Hilton Hotel lobby, after walking � mile with my luggage down 34th St in Gville. Mencher arrives with the 15 passenger van with a monster luggage rack the length of the van. Day 1: Ichnetuckee Springs for tubing where I flipped my tube over right away, almost losing my sunglasses and visor�temperature of water � a brisk 72. We then drove up the Panhandle coast toward Panana City which took longer than anticipated. I also got my first does of really bad music played on the van. We ended up having Hungry Howie�s pizza on the beach. That night after pitching tent in a mosquito ridden camp site, I bought a super-size Bud Light and sat on the beach drinking it with my German speaking comrades. Nothing like a little open container, complete with brown paper bag. Nobody threw me any spare change. WWSD (What would Seth do?) The summer teen Florida Baptist convention was at the HoJo�s on the beach � there were over a thousand kiddies running around�none of which are likely future Fishman disciples. Drink some Manishevitz, kiddies. Night #1. My tentmate, Jung-Ho (I got to say Ho a lot) pitched my first tent pitching and celebrating this by drinking some warm beer. The temperature was about 80 all night. I kept wondering where the A/C was in this place! # of hours of sleep that night: 2. Time we got up? 630AM! 630AM! Snooze button not optional. Mencher would say �sleep in the van� # of times I actually slept on the van: 1. Days 2-3 destination: New Orleans. We were also staying 2 nights at a hotel! Extra bonus � I wasn�t sure what I was looking forward to more! Our hotel was called the Olde Inn. (�The Old Zoo�not the new zoo� � Police Academy 2). This place was one of the little cool places that you�d never know about � I�m sure it was featured on a second rate Home and Garden channel program somewhere. Our room was straight out of the 1900s. I slept on an old day bed with cast iron siding � it was very cool and comfy but I think sex would have proved challenging, though you could easily use those side boards for acts of borderline deviance. That night we decided to go to a traditional place for dinner for the N.O. dining experience. That�s right � Jambalaya, crawdads, red beans and rice (�did miss her� � Sir Mixalot, British Royal Rapper). And I don�t eat any of that shit. My dinner was not good � I�m not sure what it was, except overpriced. Egon (yes that�s his name, another I got to say a lot!) from Germany wasn�t digging dinner. Actually I don�t think any of the German/Austrian contingency did. We then stayed for Bourbon Street times, going first to a bar that had a dead ringer for James Brown and he screamed a lot like him. Free Cover in N.O. means you have to buy a drink like every hour! The shady bartenders swoom you with overpriced crap � 5 bucks for a Bud Light! I could have drank a 6er in the parking lot and had 50 cents left over to get 2 packs of gum. Bastards. The bartenders weren�t coming around so fast after round one because our international group members weren�t exactly implementing the �tip� system. Good for them. They can plead ignorance and it works. I decided maybe I should change my name to Fritz the rest of the trip and pull off a phony accent. I hate to say this, but New Orleans is a dump � I felt like I needed a delousal bath and tetanus shot each night. We did go to some cool places and as always I found the cheap beer � at this pseudo gift store where 2 castbacks from Springer worked. I did like walking in the streets with beers in my hand � that was great. Reminded me of Vegas except most of the women here I didn�t wanna see naked and nobody passed out flyers with naked hoochs you could rent by the hour. 80 bucks for Suzy. Not that I�d know this. �Sexy MoFo� � Frank was this older German guy who�s English wasn�t so good. He�s a high school gym teacher back home and I should look this good when Im 38, but regardless, this skanky (and dare I say, �Hoss�) of a woman comes up to him and grabs his rack! She says �Hey its Bourbon Street, I can do that!� Of course he�s clueless. She says to me � �Youre friend is a Sexy Muthafucker!� and repeats this a few times! She then says, �Doesn�t he think Im a sexy bitch?� so I told Frank to tell her, in deadpan English with his accent �Yes, you are a fine lady!� � the rest of the trip we called Frank a Sexy MoFo. Welcome to America! Both nights back we walked home in true Fishman fashion (Cab? F- That) � Of course after drinks, I think anything within 4-5 miles is walking distance. Our hotel was in one of those areas of the city where you don�t walk at night alone. Our second night I came home with random posters off street poles. Always a sign of a good time. Get a compass, you fool: The second day at New Orleans was a free day so we were on our own. My adventuresome self decided I needed to venture out alone. After about 2 miles, I realized that I was not heading in to the French Quarter but to downtown New Orleans. So I ended up going about 5 miles out of my initial plans and walking in a few seedy areas to see some homies. I did get to see some things that nobody else did so that was cool. COPS Nah'awwwwleans style. After getting back on track and resisting a temptation to spend the day at the New Orleans Art Museum, I went to take a ferry ride across the Mississippi. After that, I went to the French Quarter where I ended up accidently at the �Satchmo Summer Jazzfest� aka Louis Armstrong fest, nationally known. There I got to see real jazz on a lawn, get lots of free crap I don�t need, and relax. It was very cool � I felt uber-hip for a bit. Of course then I get caught in a rain storm so I was standing in an alley for 20 minutes while it passed over. I ended up walking over 8 miles that day. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy: Mencher and I went to some Voodoo store and signs there said that if take pictures bad bad things will happen to you. I�m not in that voodoo shiz, (�Yamayamayama Yaaaaama� � Police Academy 2, again!) but I believed that warning. Even Mencher didn�t buy anything from the store and he always likes Ripleys Believe or Not type things. # of times I got clawed by a hotel cat: 1 # of times I got clawed by Carrie Freund in 8th grade Science lab: 3 |
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