1999. Bourbon Street, New Orleans.
My friend and I are enjoying Bourbon street as much as two 20 year olds can. I'm half in the bag and feeling good as we make our way down the street. It is a good night and I've already told the guy who is holding a ten foot tall cruicifix in the middle of the street and telling everyone they are going to hell that: "I LOVE (improper name for a part of the female anatomy)."
To which he responded, "YOU SIR, ARE THE DEVIL!"
Good night, good night.
As we approach an intersection, we see a man leaning against a post in the middle of the street.
"You guys need some coke?" he asks. It's always funny to me how sometimes they use code and sometimes they don't.
"No thanks," I say and we continue walking past him.
"I don't think you guys want to go down that street any further," he says to us.
"Ok Mr. Drug Dealer, we're gonna listen to you," I think to myself as we continue past him. Me and my friend are looking for chicks and nobody is going to stop us.
Halfway down the block I realize our mistake.
"Hey big fella," I hear from a balcony, "why don't you come up here, I got a surprise for ya."
We look around and realize there is not a single "chick" around.
"I think this must be the gay section," I say quietly to my friend.
"No shit," he responds.
We turn around and start to walk back from where we came. We are looking for "chicks" after all. As we pass by the drug dealer, he turns to us and says:
"I told ya."
Copyright (c) 2008 http://crudeandfeckless.blogspot.com/ by Kevin McDonald
4 comments:
Ha! In all fairness, you should have at least asked him why you wouldn't want to go down that street. He was a native!
Hey, "go down" that street. Get it? "Go down". HA! Punmaster Gumbo strikes again!
Those drug deals. Always looking out for people.
You should have at least bought something from him.
There's like 4 things in that story that I'm jealous of. You lucky bastard.
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