Mystick Crewe of Idunnowho: Sober Gras 09 Verbal Blowout Edition!!!!!

They say you have to strike while the iron is hot, and I agree with them. That is why today, Mardi Gras Day, I'm going to take the time to tell you about what just transpired in the most unholy, revelrous, and glorious of cities, New Orleans, which shall be known from here on as Sober Gras 2009. By me, anyway.

It started about a week ago, when my plans for the season were being finalized. I decided to ask my friend Jamie to join me this year, for a number of reasons: 1) she's crazy fun, and I felt like Mardi Gras would bring out the best in both of us (it did!), and 2) I knew she wouldn't have a problem with staying sober, which is a requirement for my accompaniment and makes it much easier for me to deal with those that choose not to do so. She agreed to go, and the wheels were in motion.

I had to slog through one of the most intolerable work weeks of my life, because I've been dealing with a cold and my recent foray into non-smokerdom, which combined to make me unbearably sick for the better part of the last two weeks. Combine that with the fact that I'm losing patience with the company I work for and their lack of consideration for the employees they actually have, and you see a perfect storm that almost threatened to overwhelm my Mardi Gras before it got off the ground. But that's just pithy banter now, considering what actually took place.

Once the main characters had been decided upon, the bags packed, the mixes made, it was time to look into what we'd actually be doing in the city once we got there. For a moment I just thought we'd stay in the Monkey House and enjoy the wild fun the rest of our friends were having, but the realization that we would get absolutely no sleep (and anyone who knows me knows how I am when I need sleep...more on that later) eventually capsized that idea. A phone call was made, and Xtina was kind enough to open her home to us for what we assumed would be two nights of restful, rejuvenating mid-Mardi Gras sleep; this is a rare find, and always welcome.

Sunday night came, and we were off. A tussle with the bikes (yes, we were able to cram two full size bikes into the back seat / trunk of my car; how we did this, I still have no clue) eventually ended in complete victory, and we were able to get into the city for around 9:30 that evening. We hit up the nearest Rally Burger with Tina and her friend Brock (who was a DJ when I was at KLSU years ago, come to find out), and went to sleep anticipating the next day's triumphant goings-on.

At this point it's important for me to give you a small aside: the song of Mardi Gras this year, at least for Jamie and I, was the "Stanky Leg". If you've never heard this song, or are unfamiliar with how the corresponding dance is performed, here's a refresher:



If you were to look for it, you'd see "Hit da booty doo" written on several French Quarter street corners. I'm just saying.

Anyways, we were up at 8, out for 9, and enjoying beignets at Cafe du Monde in short order. Bikes are the way to go for Mardi Gras, and we made the ride from Bordeaux to downtown so many times yesterday that I'm saddlesore today. Go figure. But we never had to worry about tickets or traffic, so I'd say we picked the right poison. We were in line to get the beignets, which was notably long, of course, when Jamie tapped my shoulder and pointed to the tent forming the wall of the building...all I could see was the face of a small Asian woman with the CdM hat on, asking us what we wanted. We gave her our order, very hush hush and under the table, and she proceeded to bring it to us in front of all the other folks who had to wait in line. Such was the story of our MG.

We rode over to Frenchmen and around the Quarter for a bit, went to Mona's and would've given my number to a beautiful waitress if I'd only had a pen (and believe me, we went all over that fucking restaurant looking for one, but came up empty), and then I started placing calls to meet up with my crew for midday madness. The only answer came from Andy G., who told me that Ghost Mice were playing a show at the Iron Rail at 4. This turned out to be perfect, since we needed something to do before the night's main course (which was the Quintron / Andrew WK show, btw; bad narration on my part, sorry). The show was amazing, and let me catch up with my B.R. crewmembers I hadn't seen to that point.

After the show we decided to ride back to Tina's, to catch a short nap before we'd ride out again for AWK. These plans went unfulfilled, however, as we ran into Orpheus and were trapped on the wrong side of Napoleon til the parade had run. Jamie had a lot of fun seeing her first night parade, and I got to read the new Slingshot.

We got back to the apartment, but did no sleeping. We decided it would be a better idea to drive to the show, since we were both dog tired and had been on bikes all day. That was unwise. We got stuck on Canal and were forced to return to home base, since I don't have the best New Orleans map in my head, and take the horses back out of the stable. By this time riding was getting me down, but we had to do it or miss the show.

It was all worth it in the end, as we saw many, many more B.R. denizens at the club and were treated to one of the most gloriously insane musical experiences I've ever witnessed. The opening act was bizarre white porno funk with a half naked Har Mar lookalike for a singer and two beautiful backup singers who teased, but simply refused to remove any clothing. I assumed Quintron would be next, but to my surprise the curtain opened on Mr. Andrew WK, alone with a keyboard and a woman he called his wife, sans band, who proceeded to melt faces with his frenetic energy and almost vomited about eight times onstage. The no band thing was a legitimate qualm, as I'd really wanted to see what that would be like, all metal mania and whatnot, but it was so unbelievable that I couldn't be disappointed by the product.

After he played I felt like I was going to die, a mixture of the cigarette smoke, sickness, and all day bike riding having taken all my energy hours before. But we still had to ride home, which we did, all the way back Uptown, and were ready to crash for the evening, when...she wasn't home. We were thinking Tina was going to just pack it in after we left, but she wound up going out and we were unaware. We broke the bikes down to give us something to do while they returned, and when they finally did and we saw the crowd of people (knowing that sleep was out of the question at this point) we decided to buck up and head for home.

Half dead and zoning, we drove the hour back to the Capital City, at which point I crashed and slept, until very recently. So that's my story, having touched all the bases and painted with very broad strokes. I'm sure there's some small details I omitted, and they are for me to savor. Photos will be up soon. Til then, here's hoping your Carnival was as inspiring as mine was. And here's looking at Sober Gras 2010!