By the time I was in college, I’d learned not to tell my parents things they didn’t want to hear. I wasn’t allowed to go to my high school’s senior prom. I told them I was going to the movies with some friends, which was true. However, I told them we were going to a “G” rated Disney movie when we really went to see the very raunchy “Tom Jones” with Albert Finney. There wasn’t really anything wrong with the movie; my parents were overly restrictive.

When I was a sophomore in college, Mother had a student working in her office named Judy and had also become friendly with a very religious Thai student named Tan who kept asking me out. He thought I would be a wonderful wife for him since I came from such a religious family. I didn’t like him as anything other than an acquaintance and kept saying no. However, he was good friends with Judy and her boyfriend.

In the spring of that year, Judy and Tan asked me if I wanted to go with them to a mission conference at the Southern Baptist Seminary in New Orleans.  I didn’t want to go, especially with Tan, but Judy said we’d have fun. The real reason I let Judy talk me into going was that she had promised me I could drive her 1966 dark green Mustang with white leather interior. Getting to drive it from Birmingham to New Orleans was a closer for me. Mother didn’t really want me to go to New Orleans without a chaperone, but it was a mission conference. She knew and trusted Judy. Besides, Tan would be there to protect us.

We left the campus around 3pm, Judy riding shotgun with Tan crammed into the tiny back seat we’d folded down for our luggage. I asked to see a map to figure out what highway to take and Judy gave me the best directions ever: drive south on any road and when you hit the Gulf of Mexico, turn right. That was how we got to New Orleans.

We crossed over the bridge outside Metarie, LA, that I recognized from our high school choir tour to New Orleans. After a quick supper we drove to the seminary, checked in, and hit the sack, having arrived too late for the Friday night conference session. Saturday we got up late, missed the morning session, lingering over breakfast to talk to one of the ministers who would speak later in the day.

Saturday afternoon we took a taxi to the French Quarter where we heard the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, strolled around Jackson Square, and ran into some guys Tan knew. They took us to the Playboy Club, a couple of other places, and we finally ended up at Pat O’Brien’s having their famous drinks, the Hurricane and Cyclone. Tan decided I’d had enough, and I explained to him that nobody drew lines for me except me. That was the end of his idea that we might one day be a couple.

It was 11:30pm on Bourbon Street when we ran into the minister we’d met at breakfast. We explained that we were now in a pickle, because the curfew for the women’s dorms at the seminary was 11pm, and we were now locked out. He went back with us and, after we’d dropped off Tan, he knocked on the door to the dorm. A stern looking woman came to the door and explained that we’d missed curfew and the dorms were locked for the night. The rules had been explained to us when we’d checked in. However, because he was a well known and respected Christian minister, she listened as he told her we’d been involved in a very intense prayer session and had lost track of time. Judy and I had chewed gum vigorously on the ride to the seminary and attempted to look appropriately pious. Between our heavenward glances and his insistence that we should not be punished for holding prayer sessions, we convinced the woman who finally let us in.

We overslept the following morning and missed the final session of the mission conference. We suffered our hangovers in silence on the trip home. By the way, in the pre-interstate days, a map would have been helpful in going from New Orleans to Birmingham. I drove east until we hit Alabama and then drove north hoping to find something familiar. We got quite lost and ended up on back roads outside Tuscaloosa before stumbling across Rte 11.

I have a photo from the evening at Pat O’Brien’s which I kept hidden from my parents for years. However, I always kept the Cyclone glass with Pat O’Brien’s logo on it on my bureau top, but no one ever asked me about it.

Tan married a nice girl from Clanton and took her back to Thailand where his millionaire father kept them in style. Judy and her boyfriend married after graduation, but sadly she lost her Mustang in an accident, driving it into a lake.

Mother and Dad were impressed that I’d met the minister who’d gotten us back into the dormitory, so that was the only part I told them. Like Johnny Cash, I walked the line.

© 2009 jgschenck

Celebrate the history of New Orleans with the NEW tile coasters at OrleansGiftShop.com. We have just added over 50 new coasters with many images of famous New Orleans landmarks.

We have many coaster images to choose from, including the following:

• Jackson Square Coaster
• Fleur De Lis Coaster
• Cafe Du Monde Coaster
• Tabasco Coaster
• 1984 World’s Fair Coaster
• Hubigs Pies Coaster
• Tipitina’s Coaster
• See All

Yes, we went to Pat O’Brien’s. We were early for our ghost tour, had 45 minutes to kill and O’Brien’s was right across the street from our tour starting point so we ducked in there out of the 101 degree heat that early evening.

“What can I get for you children?” asked the waitress who had a gleam in her eye that we could see even in the afternoon dark of the piano bar.

“Well,” said HM, putting his hands on the table and looking at each of us around the table. Laylou and Irish waited, ready to follow suit, strangers in a strange land. “I’m thinking we’ll have Hurricanes all around.”

“Four of ‘em, then? In a tall glass? It’s the souvenir glass but if you don’t want that glass, you can turn it in ‘fore you go. I just want to tell you that now. Nothin’ to eat?”

I shook my head. “We haven’t time, really. We just need to cool off.”

“All right, then.I won’t dally. Those drinks should fill you up anyway, and you’ll have ‘em right away,” and she walked off, tucking our order into her apron pocket. 

There were six other people in the place, in  the cool part.
O’Brien’s also has an outdoor bar and a patio area and there were several patrons out there, sweating despite their proximity to the fountain.

Five years ago when HM and I were here and sat outdoors near the fountain, halfway through our drinks we were approached by a woman in a long frumpy dress but with the face of a cherub and tightly curled hair and looking kind of proper and wenchy at the same time. 
 
She set a box on our table and began with, “Excuse me, but I wonder if I could impose on you wonderful people to help us out. Our son just got married in a church down the street and he and his wife are coming over here for a drink and a celebration and we wondered if
you would go along with calling out “Congratulations” and blowing bubbles when they walk into the courtyard, yes?” and with that she took two tiny bottles out of the box and held them out to us. They were miniature bottles of bubbles.

She stood there, beaming and it was such an unusual request,  at that time in that place but we were enchanted with the idea  and said of course  ”yes.”
It was our own wedding anniversary that day.
How could we refuse?

When the couple entered the courtyard, we took our cue from curly-long-dress lady and stood up with about 50 other  people who were in O’Briens patio that day and yelled “Congratulations!” and blew bubbles as fast as and as many as we could.  The bridal couple was surprised and smiled and smiled.

Now, years later, we were inside with our kids. Our waitress brought the drinks. They were huge. Not just tall, these Hurricanes were taller. Skyscrapers. Starbucks would have to steal a word beyond “vente” to describe them.

I immediately set about toasting and tasting. We had only about 30 minutes prior to the tour.
It was so darn hot.
New Orleans engages in open door air conditioning. You’re indoors but a wall may be “missing” and the place is wide open to the outdoors.
The city is in a silent race to chill the air but it’s really a matter of the cool air holding back the hot air at some point just beyond any doorway. 
You often can’t tell if you’re sitting indoors or outdoors. 

Yes, we clipped away at those drinks and the kids went to the outdoor barman and got refunds on their souvenir glasses simply because they didn’t want to carry them around.
Minutes later, we did the same, then slipped down the darkened corridor between the piano bar and into the light and across the street to meet our Haunted History tour guide.
You can say what you like about indulging in outright “tourist” activities, but there are places in the world (and this is one of them) where you can enjoy a certain quality of a certain specialty along with a certain local history and it is worth the tasting.

I awoke with the best intentions.  Without trying to disturb anyone I changed into workout gear, grabbed my key and was about to go out the door when I ran into Matt.  Matt not only engaged me in lively conversation, but managed to talk me out of a run and into a bloody mary and crepes.

We headed to the Quarter, grabbed the requisite Muffaletta from Progress Grocery and grabbed a couple of drinks at, where else, but Patty O’s, where Matt ran into his former casino friend Toby, Queen of the Quarter. Ah, good ole’ Pat O’Brien’s.  Hazy memories of Mardi Gras debauchery tugged at the corners of my mouth.

With Patsy at an awards dinner that night, Matt and I continued our bon temps at Jacquimo’s on Oak by the Maple Leaf Tavern. Mmm, jambalaya-stuffed quails with corn macquechou and brussels sprouts (never willingly ordered those before.) Matt knew Jacques, so after our meal we shared a shot of some wicked Czech liquid with him and our waitress Eve.  Next stop, Henry Butter at the Bons Temps. Of course Matt knew the bartender, and I chatted with him while Matt got progressively more soused. Yes, I admit it – my chauffeur was shitfaced and I knew it. Earlier in the day I had forgotten how hard Matt drinks. Nice reminder.

Our next stop (and, as it were, final, thank goodness) was the legendary F&M patio bar where we hung out with Matt’s friend (!) Sean the bartender, a “nice Jewish boy” who allegedly didn’t have much luck with the ladies.  Unfortunately, Sean was in a grumpy mood because he was out of pocket from someone swiping $40 off the bar, but he was a good sport about keeping my glass constantly filled… with water.  I had been slowing down since the third hurricane earlier that evening, and by 3 am I was quite content with New Orleans’ Best Tap. Matt, however, knew no limits until finally he exclaimed, on probably his 30th drink of the day,

“I’m finally drunk.”

Hoo boy.

When he was telling me an interactive story about a guy grabbing him around the neck, I wasn’t too pleased about the headlock in which I found myself.  Then he insisted I get up on the now-covered pool table and dance.  I tried desperately to dissuade him but – shwooop – I was hoisted onto the “stage”.  Fortunately, Matt didn’t try any wild moves for which I was grateful seeing as I was wearing a short miniskirt with verrrry small underwear.

While I was on the pool table trying not to flash my booty I noticed a rather attractive guy standing close by. When I saw him looking at me (I think… I hope?) with a slightly-cocked head and dreamy bedroom eyes, I was rather flattered if not somewhat aroused. But alas, I was too shy and did not speak to him, even when he ended up standing next to me at the bar (by design?). Regrettably, he ended up in the arms (well, actually passed out on the shoulders) of another woman, and a night of salacious sexual awakening was snuffed out.  At 4 am I finally dragged Matt out of there and made it home, virtue and limbs intact.

The best part about this time of year in New Orleans? Jazz Fest. If you love music, food, happy people, creatively decorated tall poles and sunshine, there is no better place for it.

One of the most coveted treats at Jazz Fest is the crawfish bread.  From the moment I awoke, I talked about how excited I was to get crawfish bread.  As we biked for an hour to the fairgrounds, I extolled the virtues of crawfish bread to Matt and Patsy. As we locked our bikes and entered the park, I mused earnestly how psyched I was about the pending crawfish bread. Matt and Patsy then deliberated about how to acquire both the rosemint iced tea and the crawfish bread, and before I could do anything, poof! Patsy disappeared, Matt disappeared. Luckily I found Matt at the ice tea stand, but when we found Patsy she had bought crawfish bread for Matt and herself, but not for me.

“Oh, did you want crawfish bread?” she asked, mildly surprised.

Patsy was more self involved that I had thought.

Happily I soon procured my own crawfish bread and mandarin iced tea, to be eventually followed by fried alligator po boy, BBQ oyster po boy, bread pudding, sweet potato pone, seafood au gratin, spinach artichoke casserole, crawfish beignets and mango freeze. The music had a tough time competing, even if it was Cassandra Wilson, Santana, Ray Charles, Rockin’ Doopsie and the Zydeco Rollers and Cowboy Mouth. But the best surprise was the final act of the day in the Gospel Tent. The show was behind schedule, but the energy in the air made it clear that this was going to be a BIG show.  Every time the crowd caught a glimpse of the “band” backstage, they screamed.  Not just cheered, but screamed. When Fred Hammond and his 12 teenage Radical for Christ ensemble finally came on, the place exploded. Every single person leapt to their feet and started belting out the lyrics to an infectious blend of gospel, hip hop, R&B and pop. I was swallowed by the music and I allowed it to eat me whole.

That night we hit Reginelli’s for a muffaletta and, for old time’s sake, Pat O’Brien’s patio where the theme was banana cocktails. Matt drove us around trying to find the Saturn Bar, but despite cruising St. Claude to Chaumette, no joy. But so the night should not be a total failure, our last stop was Fleur de Lis, a new bar on Lee Circle opened by one of Matt’s friends.

Lingering over my Abita turbodog, I realized how much I had missed New Orleans, and that no matter where I would go in the world, it would always retain a piece of me.

Let’s see if Florida has the same effect.

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• Jazz Fest’s co-founder looks back (cnn.com)

Pat O’briens may be a tourist spot, but the front bar is usually pretty empty, and their delicious drinks are fairly inexpensive. We tried a lot of them (that blue one on the left was, however, not good).

First off, I hope everyone’s holiday went great! I spent Easter with my girlfriend Claudia, my parents and their friends. Great food, good laughs. My dad and I watched the Masters. I was kind of upset that we couldn’t get the last Ranger game of the season on TV but it was still an overall great time. My family is super Italian. So my dad went all out and made crazy hors d’oeuvres. One of which was crustini’s with goat cheese, caramelized red onions, and a balsamic vinegar reduction. He also made homemade bread which was awesome. He’s getting really good at making bread. Of course, we had anti pasta of Italian olives, cheeses, and meats. My mom made leg of lamb for dinner with potatoes, green beans, and stuffed mushrooms. I love stuffed mushrooms. For dessert, my parents friends brought cakes and Claudia and her mom made incredible flan. It was absolutely perfect. That was my Easter in a nutshell.

Well, spring semester is almost over. I hope I can get through it with good grades. This summer should be crazy. I finally am turning 21 in June and I couldn’t be more excited. My friends are taking me to Pat O’ Brien’s at Universal Citywalk in Orlando that night. But other than that, I’ll be taking summer courses to catch up.

Many good shows coming up in the Tampa area. April 26th I’m seeing Dredg at State Theatre which should be great. MC Chris is coming down in May which I still need to get tickets for. The week of my birthday in June, Bon Iver AND Animal Collective are playing within 2 days of each other. I cannot wait for those.

NHL Playoffs start Wedensday! LET’S GO RANGERS!!!! I’ve been waiting 15 years for another Stanley Cup victory!!

First off, hope you all enjoyed your Fat Tuesday.  We made some red beans and rice(from scratch, it wasn’t bad) and had a few Pat O’Brien Hurricanes(we actually bought a case of the mix, we loved it that much) it almost felt like New Orleans, of course without the drunken fools, topless women and crazy get-ups.

Wish I Was There!

Watcha doin tonight?  Any plans?  Got nothing going for ya huh?  Well, you stopped by the right blog.  I got just what you need.  A prescription to the winter blahs.  A cure for your cabin fever.  Now, it’s not coming from me, I am but the messenger.  You see, it all starts tonight.  That’s right, RED SOX GAMES ON NESN!!!!!!!!!   7pm tune in for the first game between the Twins and Sox.  Which team is going to get the upper hand for the most famous trophy in Grapefruit League history: The Mayors Cup of Ft. Myers.  It’s been a long, snowy winter and this is the first step to recovery, and not a moment too soon, if you ask me.

What a sweet sound!!!  I think the wrist is all right.

A quicky post before I go to bed since tomorrow is an early day and back to work –

Had today off. Dad, Nancy and I split from the group and walked around the city a little bit — down to the marketplace, on the bank of the Mississippi River, and into the Garden District by trolley. 

It was very cold! Probably around 40 degrees as a high! But still, doesn’t compare to the snow storm you guys had yesterday. 

I had many culinary yummies today — jumbalaya at Pat O’Brien’s, beignets and the best coffee I’ve ever had at Cafe Du Monde (beignets are amazing fried dough-y doughnut type things covered in convectioner’s sugar), crawfish etouffee and a very good bloody mary. (But not as good as Ken and Michael’s back home!!) My spelling is atrocious right now. And again I have heart burn. 

Trolley ride to the Garden District was fun and cool and I met the cutest boy who I talked to for a little while until his stop came up and we exchanged nothing but names and a handshake. Tee hee.

This afternoon, I was trying to fish out a tip for the barista at Rue De La Course when I found a relic from the previous evening crumpled in the back pocket on my jeans.  A quarter page, bi-fold pamphlet titled The Only Doorway was mixed in with the loose dollar bills and bar tab receipts one would normally expect to come across after a night out on the town.

When you think of a typical French Quarter souvenir, I’m not sure if literature extolling the virtues of receiving Jesus Christ as your personal God and savior makes the short list, but this type of shit is actually more common than you may think.

New Orleans is full of sin, and wherever you find sin you’ve bound to find a few people trying to offer salvation.  And when religious zealots descend on Bourbon Street, they are usually armed with megaphones and offensive placards reminding all the Democrats, drunks, rock ‘n’ rollers, adulteresses, potheads, homosexuals, lesbians, Masons, Shriners, Mormons, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Evolutionists, Catholics, Satanists, Abortionists, Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah’s Witnesses, liberals, fornicators, prosperity preachers, atheists and “worldly lukewarm once saved-always saved Christians” that they are in imminent danger of eternal damnation.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.

These obnoxious bigots start making a scene around the time Mardi Gras rolls in by harassing every poor soul that drifts into earshot and relish the opportunity to take the fight to any inebriated onlooker that dares to inquire what, exactly, they are trying to accomplish with their message of hate.  If you test any one of the shitbirds impeding your safe passage through Jackson Square, you learn pretty quickly that they’re not just throwing this nonsense around for effect and don’t take their intolerance with cream and sugar.  They devour and expel that poison neat with the rocks on the side.

So when I noticed a huge PVC cross off in the distance as my friends and I were leaving Pat O’s after putting in some heavy work at the Piano Bar, I braced myself for an explosive encounter.  I realize that an “Eat shit and die, you anti-Semite fuckstick” – no matter how artfully delivered – only fuels these sad, sad individuals’ fires and adds little to the philosophical discourse, but what can I say?  After a few Hurricanes, I usually don’t have the wherewithal (or desire) to stop myself from shouting the first bit of reactive gobbledygook that pops into my head.

I had an expletive-laden opening argument primed and ready but instead of crude signs and small-minded rednecks, I was greeted by thoughtful individuals speaking with 12 inch voices and respecting everyone’s right of way.  And even thought I was part of a pretty tough crowd – one which was both shitfaced and 70% Jewish – their message stuck it’s landing a lot more than expected considering it was coming from the New Testament.

See, instead of using a fucked up notion of spiritual superiority as a cloak for violent prejudice in the manner of most Bourbon Street evangelicals, these people just seemed like they might be on to something hip and wanted to spread the word.  Even though we were less than polite at times, their pleasant demeanor and cooler heads prevailed and the entire encounter made a lasting impression on me.

To be honest, though, I still don’t understand why The Bible, out of all the hundreds of thousands of works of literature produced in the annuls of human history, has developed such an incredibly fervent following.  Sure it’s a pretty cool story, but so are The Odyssey, Don Quijote, and The Lorax.  Even a nearly unreadable mess like Naked Lunch sheds some light on the human condition if you catch it right, so where are the barkers on the street spreading the gospel of doing bag after bag of heroin and staring at your toes for days on end?

I am guessing that this is where “faith” comes in, an idea that I have spent many years disparaging in the bitter, condescending manner favored by modern-day secular intellectuals such as myself.  But even though I wasn’t buying much of what those good folks were selling and still think religion is pretty asinine; their patient way of carrying water for the topic lead me to believe it shouldn’t be looked at with any more disdain then most of the bullshit I do in my free time.

After giving it plenty of thought, I can’t really think of any material difference between those kind missionaries dispersing fliers outside Big Daddy’s Female Impersonator Show and yours truly spending $12 to play Gaucho all the way through on the jukebox at Monkey Hill, except for the fact that the Jesus freaks were surely a lot more genial and probably had much purer intentions.

I guess it is in everyone’s best interest to find a few things that they love and are not afraid to share with the world.  For me, these things include an ironic jazz-rock band known by most people my age either as a punchline in a Judd Apatow flick or “that dude who did ‘Rikki Don’t Lose That Number.’”  For others, it may be a belief that your personal relationship with an unseen almighty being determines what happens after you shuffle off your mortal coil.

These are two very diseparate things for sure, but trying to objectively judge one as more valid than the other is really just a waste of time, time that would be much better spent partying with whatever it is that happens to get your rocks off.

Let the good times roll at Mardi Gras 2009! Universal Studios boasts the largest Mardi Gras celebration outside of New Orleans – complete with a live concert series that features a diversity of musical stars, colorful parades full of floats (plenty of beads will also be thrown around!), elaborately costumed characters and delectable “Big Easy” cuisine such as jambalaya and shrimp gumbo. Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios will begin on Saturday, February 7, 2009, and runs every Saturday night through Saturday, April 18, 2009, with additional dates on Sunday, February 15, 2009, and Friday, March 27, 2009.

Topping the entertainment list for Mardi Gras 2009 are such musical superstars as Billboard Chart-topper Ne-Yo, “American Idol” winner Kelly Clarkson, country music-duo Montgomery Gentry and Grammy Award-winning rapper Nelly, as well as Pat Benatar (“Hit Me with Your Best Shot”), MC Hammer (“Too Legit to Quit”), The Village People (“Y.M.C.A.”) and KC and the Sunshine Band (“Please Don’t Go”). In fact, this year’s Mardi Gras lineup has collectively sold more than 300 million records and captured a dozen Grammy Awards. In addition, lively New Orleans bands such as Big Red and the Zydeco Playmakers, Lil Malcolm and the House Rockers, Daddy Mac Blues Band, Chris Klein and the Boulevards, Rockin Jake, Mem Shannon and The Membership, The Honey Islands Swamp Band, Jumpin Johnny Sansone, Soul Project, Lil Nathan and the Zydeco Big Timers, and Lil Brian and Zydeco Travelers will showcase their authentic bayou music.

The centerpiece of Mardi Gras 2009 will be the parade featuring more than a dozen colorful floats that wind around the “French Quarter Courtyard” – a replica of New Orleans’ legendary French Quarter – the heart of Mardi Gras. These authentic floats are designed by “Mr. Mardi Gras” himself, Blaine Kern, whose company, Blaine Kern Artists, Inc., has built Mardi Gras floats since 1932. The parade theme for Mardi Gras 2009 is “Stories,” which will provide guests with a glimpse into the world of literature. Themed floats that feature iconic characters and settings from the pages of some of the world’s best-loved books will cruise the streets of Universal Studios throughout the event.

The Mardi Gras 2009 celebration would not be complete without the taste of traditional Cajun and Creole cuisine such as jambalaya, gumbo and beignets, which are sure to tempt the palate of Mardi Gras revelers. Along with delicious New Orleans-style cuisine, guests can enjoy flavorful drinks made famous in New Orleans.

Mardi Gras is included in park admission to Universal Studios. Admission to Universal Studios after 5 PM on Mardi Gras event dates is $45.99 plus tax. Live concerts in the Universal Studios Mardi Gras Concert Series begin at 8:30 PM.

So mark your calendar for Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios, which provides a wonderful addition to the dynamic rides and shows at Universal Studios Florida such as The Simpsons Ride, Shrek 4-D and Revenge of the Mummy – The Ride. Both locals and visitors alike will enjoy the nationally recognized musical acts that headline the Mardi Gras events. In addition, Universal CityWalk hosts an official Mardi Gras after-party that includes free admission to select nightclubs until 2 AM such as Pat O’Brien’s, the official Mardi Gras Headquarters of CityWalk.

Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios Concert Schedule

FEBRUARY

KC and the Sunshine Band, Big Red and the Zydeco Playmakers – Saturday, February 7, 2009
Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons, Lil Malcolm and the House Rockers – Saturday, February 14, 2009
The Village People, Lil Malcolm and the House Rockers – Sunday, February 15, 2009
Ne-Yo, Daddy Mac Blues Band – Saturday, February 21, 2009
Pat Benatar (featuring Neil Giraldo on guitar), Chris Klein and the Boulevards – Saturday, February 28, 2009

MARCH

Barenaked Ladies, Rockin Jake – Saturday, March 7, 2009
Montgomery Gentry, Mem Shannon and The Membership – Saturday, March 14, 2009
Collective Soul, The Honey Islands Swamp Band – Saturday, March 21, 2009
Boys Like Girls, Jumpin Johnny Sansone – Friday, March 27, 2009
Kelly Clarkson, Jumpin Johnny Sansone – Saturday, March 28, 2009

APRIL

MC Hammer, Soul Project – Saturday, April 4, 2009
Trace Adkins, Lil Nathan and the Zydeco Big Timers, Saturday, April 11, 2009
Nelly, Lil Brian and the Zydeco Travelers – Saturday, April 18, 2009

Note: Times, dates and entertainment are subject to change without notice.

Looking for great deals on spacious villa rentals during your stay in Orlando for Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios? Visit www.westgatedestinations.com  for information on Westgate Resorts properties, including Westgate Blue Tree Resort, Westgate Lakes Resort & Spa, Westgate Leisure Resort, Westgate Palace, Westgate Towers, Westgate Town Center and Westgate Vacation Villas.

Let the good times roll at Mardi Gras 2009! Universal Studios boasts the largest Mardi Gras celebration outside of New Orleans – complete with a live concert series that features a diversity of musical stars, colorful parades full of floats (plenty of beads will also be thrown around!), elaborately costumed characters and delectable “Big Easy” cuisine such as jambalaya and shrimp gumbo. Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios will begin on Saturday, February 7, 2009, and runs every Saturday night through Saturday, April 18, 2009, with additional dates on Sunday, February 15, 2009, and Friday, March 27, 2009.

Topping the entertainment list for Mardi Gras 2009 are such musical superstars as Billboard Chart-topper Ne-Yo, “American Idol” winner Kelly Clarkson, country music-duo Montgomery Gentry and Grammy Award-winning rapper Nelly, as well as Pat Benatar (“Hit Me with Your Best Shot”), MC Hammer (“Too Legit to Quit”), The Village People (“Y.M.C.A.”) and KC and the Sunshine Band (“Please Don’t Go”). In fact, this year’s Mardi Gras lineup has collectively sold more than 300 million records and captured a dozen Grammy Awards. In addition, lively New Orleans bands such as Big Red and the Zydeco Playmakers, Lil Malcolm and the House Rockers, Daddy Mac Blues Band, Chris Klein and the Boulevards, Rockin Jake, Mem Shannon and The Membership, The Honey Islands Swamp Band, Jumpin Johnny Sansone, Soul Project, Lil Nathan and the Zydeco Big Timers, and Lil Brian and Zydeco Travelers will showcase their authentic bayou music.

The centerpiece of Mardi Gras 2009 will be the parade featuring more than a dozen colorful floats that wind around the “French Quarter Courtyard” – a replica of New Orleans’ legendary French Quarter – the heart of Mardi Gras. These authentic floats are designed by “Mr. Mardi Gras” himself, Blaine Kern, whose company, Blaine Kern Artists, Inc., has built Mardi Gras floats since 1932. The parade theme for Mardi Gras 2009 is “Stories,” which will provide guests with a glimpse into the world of literature. Themed floats that feature iconic characters and settings from the pages of some of the world’s best-loved books will cruise the streets of Universal Studios throughout the event.

The Mardi Gras 2009 celebration would not be complete without the taste of traditional Cajun and Creole cuisine such as jambalaya, gumbo and beignets, which are sure to tempt the palate of Mardi Gras revelers. Along with delicious New Orleans-style cuisine, guests can enjoy flavorful drinks made famous in New Orleans.

Mardi Gras is included in park admission to Universal Studios. Admission to Universal Studios after 5 PM on Mardi Gras event dates is $45.99 plus tax. Live concerts in the Universal Studios Mardi Gras Concert Series begin at 8:30 PM.

So mark your calendar for Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios, which provides a wonderful addition to the dynamic rides and shows at Universal Studios Florida such as The Simpsons Ride, Shrek 4-D and Revenge of the Mummy – The Ride. Both locals and visitors alike will enjoy the nationally recognized musical acts that headline the Mardi Gras events. In addition, Universal CityWalk hosts an official Mardi Gras after-party that includes free admission to select nightclubs until 2 AM such as Pat O’Brien’s, the official Mardi Gras Headquarters of CityWalk.

Mardi Gras 2009 at Universal Studios Concert Schedule

FEBRUARY

KC and the Sunshine Band, Big Red and the Zydeco Playmakers – Saturday, February 7, 2009
Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons, Lil Malcolm and the House Rockers – Saturday, February 14, 2009
The Village People, Lil Malcolm and the House Rockers – Sunday, February 15, 2009
Ne-Yo, Daddy Mac Blues Band – Saturday, February 21, 2009
Pat Benatar (featuring Neil Giraldo on guitar), Chris Klein and the Boulevards – Saturday, February 28, 2009

MARCH

Barenaked Ladies, Rockin Jake – Saturday, March 7, 2009
Montgomery Gentry, Mem Shannon and The Membership – Saturday, March 14, 2009
Collective Soul, The Honey Islands Swamp Band – Saturday, March 21, 2009
Boys Like Girls, Jumpin Johnny Sansone – Friday, March 27, 2009
Kelly Clarkson, Jumpin Johnny Sansone – Saturday, March 28, 2009

APRIL

MC Hammer, Soul Project – Saturday, April 4, 2009
Trace Adkins, Lil Nathan and the Zydeco Big Timers, Saturday, April 11, 2009
Nelly, Lil Brian and the Zydeco Travelers – Saturday, April 18, 2009

Note: Times, dates and entertainment are subject to change without notice.

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She’s a beauty isn’t she?

Let me set the scene for you. Six friends arrive in New Orleans for my stag in October of ‘07. None of us have been to New Orleans. So why The Big Easy?

Simple: It is the most perfect bachelor party destination in modern history. Four nights later each of my friends – of their own accord – approached me and stated, simply, that this was the greatest party weekend of their life. They were right. I’m going back tomorrow for another bachelor party. One day, you should go too. Here’s ten reasons why:

1. There are two rules and two rules only.

In four days gallivanting around the French Quarter, the group – as a whole – figured out how to avoid being thrown in prison. It’s easier than you might think. As best I can tell, if you follow these two rules through the duration of your stay, everything else is gravy:

Don’t start a fight. Don’t mistake the streets for a toilet.

The latter gets a little tricky as the night moves along but is none the less important. Do your 1’s and 2’s in a toilet. On the other hand, vomiting in the street is almost like a rite of passage, so don’t be afraid to wander down that path of self-discovery. And… That’s it.

2. Bourbon Street.

After a traditional BBQ dinner that kicked the stag off perfectly we headed over to Bourbon Street with this nugget of advice: “Head to the Bourbon Street Blues Club. It’s 3 for 1 drinks upstairs.” Um, okay! The boys were justifiably skeptical. Everybody has been to bars where they promote a drink special and then an investigative report reveals that you were drinking 3 parts beer, 1 part water and 2 parts pee. That’s never fun. The Bourbon Street Blues Club has a balcony that overlooks the main stretch of the street. After arriving I snuck inside to grab the first round because, I assumed, correctly, that I would have trouble paying for a drink that weekend. My friends are awesome. “I’ll have six Budweiser’s please.” “That’ll be $18.” As I soaked in the scene around me I could hear a flurry of activity beneath the bar. Shortly thereafter the bartender handed me 6 empty 32 ounce cups and 18 bottles of Budweiser. After all, it was 3 for 1. Just then, a buddy of mine wandered up to the bar and I demanded that he order a beer. Watching the bartender arrive with three was a little like seeing someone scratch the final number of a winning lottery ticket. Disbelief, mixed with self-reflection and raw enthusiasm. NEW ORLEANS!

3. The lady folk.

The picture at the top of this post was taken outside of a western bar with a mechanical bull. At 5 am. The time is relevant because the sea-donkey to my right is being married in approximately 7 hours. Oh, and she don’t want no fucking hamburgers. Back inside the bar two of my buddies were having a conversation with a girl that – at some point in her life – was faced with a decision: On the one hand she could get elective cosmetic surgery to enhance her breasts. On the other hand, she could address her front teeth, which, for whatever reason, were not in her mouth. Her decision was a compromise of sorts. She went with the boobs and decided to talk like a ventriliquist. Finally, that weekend was the annual Florida / LSU SEC Football game in Baton Rouge. As such, the streets were flooded with female students from the University of Florida. Here’s what one of my friends had to say, verbatim: “These girls are so beautiful, I don’t even want to talk with them. God exists, though. I’m pretty sure now.”

4. Johnny White’s.

If you don’t read the rest of this post, please read this article. Johnny White’s is my favorite bar in the world. If you go to New Orleans and don’t head there for a beer you might as well stay home. Which leads me to number five.

5. New Orleans needs our help.

My stag was nearly 26 months after the destruction of Hurricane Katrina. On the Friday afternoon we took a taxi through the ninth ward on the way to tour the Old New Orleans Rum Distillery. Having just been to Kenya – a third-world-country – I can say with confidence that the conditions in that residential area were markedly worse. The majority of houses were condemned. People seemed desperate. There was a boat in the middle of an intersection. A boat. Not a dingy. A fucking boat. For whatever reason, there are sections of New Orleans, and surrounding areas that haven’t even come close to recovering. You could even make the argument that the neglect over the past three and a half years has made the situation worse. I’m not hear to point fingers… I’m just suggesting that heading down there and injecting a little cash into the city can’t hurt.

Quick story before we move it along: Old New Orleans Rum is terrific. We arrived at the Distillery for “Gin Friday”. What’s “Gin Friday” you ask? Well, it’s “Gin Friday”. The employees at the distillery make their own Gin and drink it under a home-made tiki-tent. Once again, NEW ORLEANS!!!

6. You just never know…

Saturday afternoon the group split up. One group went on a tour. One guy decided that sleep was irrelevant and carried his Friday night party right into a College Football Saturday. And three of us decided to take a leisurely stroll on the waterfront. Along the way we saw a cigar shop. Then, an Irish Pub. And finally, a juke box. Four hours, 15 pints of Guinness (split three ways), some type of whiskey and one too many Oasis songs later we stumbled out. In New Orleans you can plan all you want, and eventually, inevitably, the city will surprise you.

7. The Dungeon.

Much like life, and warm bathtubs, you need to ease your way into New Orleans. The first night you’re there, stick to Bourbon Street. The next night, maybe you wander into Pat O’Briens (beware the Hurricane’s and deranged Chicago Bears fans). Finally, if you feel ready, go to The Dungeon (scroll down). Don’t look back, don’t take pictures, don’t apologize.

Midnight Potion ladies and gentlemen. “16 ounces of hell.” NEW ORLEANS!!!!!!!!!

8. Last call.

Last call in New Orleans isn’t a question so much as a riddle. There is no last call. If you’d like an alcoholic beverage at quarter after seven in the morning, you’re in luck. Classic story from Johnny White’s:

At 4:00 AM on Sunday morning the bartender turned down the music and addressed the bar: “Listen up, Fuckers!…” The bar went quiet. Obviously, it was time to leave right? And then, a smile came across the bartender’s face. “Happy hour!” With that, the music went back up and I think a cried a little bit.

9. Variety.

So, what are your interests? Want to go and see some live music? Tremendous. There’s the House of Blues (we saw George Clinton) and a hundred more local shops with some of the world’s best jazz musicians. Interested in eating some good food? Gotcha covered. You realize you’re in The South right? At one point I ate a piece of apple pie with vanilla ice cream that was cooked on the same grill as my bacon. Welcome to flavor country. Do you like looking at people in their birthday suits? I bet you do. There’s everything from your traditional, run of the mill gentlemen’s clubs, to live sex-shows. No judgments here. But seriously, stay away from the live sex-show. Having your retina’s catch on fire is a unique kind of hurt.

10. There’s a CASINO four minutes away from the French Quarter.

A quick word on gambling after a night of heavy drinking: Leave your debit card in your hotel room. Or eat it. Literally, eat it. Chew it and attempt to digest it. Thank me later.

The whole idea of your bachelor party being your last weekend of “freedom” is ridiculous. At its core, the bachelor party is a weekend to celebrate friendship, drink before noon and narrowly avoid horrific injury (at least once). I will never forget mine. Ever.

Thank you, New Orleans. I always knew I’d come back.

My brother has lived in New York City for almost a year and a half now, and this has given us two or three occasions to engage in the Manhattan version of our favorite shared pastime: walking around a major metropolis without the trappings of a destination or an agenda.

The starting point of our trip is usually determined by where we want to catch lunch and we head out equipped with nothing more than a comfortable pair of shoes and a good sense of direction.  No cabs, no subway, just two dudes who haven’t seen each other for a while running wild on the public thoroughfares of a big city.

Maybe it is overstatement to say we have no destination at all, but the route we take to get wherever it is we are going  is as dynamic as a Leftover Lazos jam session during a thunderstorm on Simpson Street.  If we are confronted with a “Don’t Walk” sign, we’ll bust a right angle and start mowing down avenues instead of blocks; if we are flanked by a square, circle or plaza, we will make sure we cut through at the widest point and meander as much as possible; and if record shop or street performer catches one of our eyes, we’ll move in for a closer look.

But we are mostly on the prowl for some good watering holes.  Every dozen blocks or so we’ll stop somewhere to rest give our feet a rest, and, depending on the weather, either warm up or cool down by soaking ourselves in booze.  It is then, over a cold beer or some cheap scotch that our conversation hits it’s natural stride and starts to wander around like a free jazz record.

If a layman off the street were to drop in and survail our discussions at random, there’s as good a chance the two of us would come off like side 2 of Pangaea as there is that the third-party observer would have even the slightest idea about the type of shit we are getting into.  Sure, we might be earnestly discussing the current arc of our careers or soliciting relationship advice from each other at one moment; but before you know it we’re exchanging the Queen’s English equivalent of the type of indulgent “Skee-bop bop ba da bop!”s you’d expect from a heroin-addled trumpeter blowing away in a smoky basement to the delight of a bunch of spodiodi-slugging beatniks.

You get the point.  Anyways, I was back in New York for Thanksgiving weekend, and my brother cut his holiday in Brigantine, NJ short so we could meet up for a Saturday odyssey around town.  Our journey from a pizza joint near his new apartment in Yorkville was nearing it’s conclusion at the residence of my, uh, friend in Hell’s Kitchen when a neon sign at the corner of 48th and 9th got my attention.

In New Orleans, Abita Beer is more ubitiquious than sweltering humidity and cockroaches.  I’d be willing to bet a week of Revillion dinners that every single bar in the state, without exception, serves at least one of the many varieties crafted by this north shore brewery.

So when I saw the familiar purple glow of a fleur de leis in the window of a The Delta Grill, a creole/cajun restaurant in Clinton’s restaurant row, I knew we found our next hideout of the day.  We headed to the bar and staged an impromptu tasting of all the New Orleans beverages they had to offer as I regailed my brother and the bartender alike with stories of po’ boys at Parkway Tavern, Ramos Gin Fizzes at Monteleone, and concerts at The Maple Leaf.   Not only did I effectively travel 1,300 miles to drink the type of alcohol that, back in The Big Easy, is easier to locate than a recycling bin, but I was cracking eggs of  knowledge like I have lived in the Crescent City my whole life.

And even while sitting there with my brother in the midst of one of my favorite activities of all time (basically just sitting around with my brother), the taste of Abita Amber and the sight of Tipitina’s posters sent me into a moonage daydream about the world that was waiting for me when I returned home.

As Bob Dylan once said: “There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better.”  And after almost a year of drinking at bars that don’t close, eating food I’ve never seen before, and getting my mind blown on a daily basis by the excess of culture and personality you find around every turn down here, I finally feel comfortable calling this place “home.”

Enjoy New Year’s Eve at Universal CityWalk with a lineup of great live music and entertainment. Your New Year’s Eve ticket at Universal CityWalk includes live performances by the Doobie Brothers, live entertainment in every nightclub, all-you-can-eat gourmet food and a midnight champagne toast. In addition to the Doobie Brothers, live entertainment will be featured at Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville, Bob Marley – A Tribute to Freedom, the groove, Latin Quarter, Pat O’Brien’s, Red Coconut Club and CityWalk’s Rising Star.

New Year’s Eve at Universal CityWalk advance tickets cost $119.99 plus tax. After December 21, 2008, tickets cost $124.99 plus tax. Visit www.universalorlando.com/holidays/citywalk.html for more information.

TRAVEL JOURNAL

Where: New Orleans, LA
When: August 11th-16th 2008
Who: Elise LeBlanc & Jim May – Indianapolis, IN
Guest Starring: Carmelina Pizzi & Kris Mills, a dog, Zoltar, a few statues
Key Places: French Quarter, Cafe du Monde, St. Charles Streetcar, Audubon Zoo, Riverwalk, Camellia Grill, Pat O’Briens, Bourbon Street, Magazine Street, St. Louis Hotel, Commander’s Palace
Highlight/s: Beignets + chocolate milk at Cafe du Monde, muffalettas at Central Grocery, reopening of $1.25 St. Charles Streetcar, getting fortune told
Lowlight: Missing connecting flight in Houston, TX
True Story: Walked 50 miles in five days, resulting in debilitating thigh chafe

I’ve already had my fair share of “firsts” since I relocated down to the Big Easy.  Since January I have experienced my first Mardi Gras, my first bowl of turtle soup, my first Jazz Fest, my first crawfish boil and my first concert at Tipitina’s, just to name a few.  And there is a chance I will be experiencing another first as early as Saturday morning:  my first hurricane evacuation.

That bastard Gustav has already got 20 50 some bodies on him and is doing a dance around Jamaica at the moment.  While he is still about 5 days away from hitting US soil, the pained and protracted guessing game has already begun.

As the local weathermen poked holes in the NHC’s computer model of Fay less than a week ago, they were brazenly flippant, dripping with a wisdom and confidence that was oddly reassuring.  “That bitch over there?  Fuck her.  Trust me man, she ain’t shit.”

But Fay was sweeping in from the Atlantic, and those predictions were made after she had been bumping around on land for a few days.  This fucker, though, is a horse of a different color.  Any storm that looks like it will be parking in the Gulf of Mexico before it make another run at land gets more local attention sooner, but there is no news to report that does not involve hypothetical modeling and statistical doubt.

No more meteorologists defiantly holding middle fingers up at the weather map superimposed behind them as it shows tropical disturbances A-F shattering apart as they hit terra firma hundreds of miles to our north or east.  Instead, experts are now cautiously sharing their best guesses, reiterating in no uncertain terms how uncertain they are.

In reality, the chances of even having to evacuate are slim, and it would be irresponsible to make any definitive predictions about a storm system that is 1,200 miles away.  And I wish I could keep my cool like those life long New Orleanians, you know, the ones that used to evacuate to the French Quarter and stave off the hurricanes made famous by Mother Nature with the hurricanes made famous by Pat O’Brien.

But for a newbie like me – someone who didn’t spend their childhood hoping for the tropical storms of yore to blow in so classes at Newman would be canceled for a few days and is only familiar with the collective consciousness of post-Katrina New Orleans – with the uncertainty comes a greater level of stress, worry and anxiety as we play a waiting game.

We have to wait to see what happens as Gus gets the chance to regroup and recharge in the widest part of the Gulf, where the warm water runs deeper than it has in the history of the planet and acts like high octane jet fuel in the hands that ruthless son-of-a-bitch off in the distance.  We have to wait; knowing that there is not a single thing anyone can do to change his path or itinerary; hoping that he at least tips his hand soon enough so everyone that needs to react can react accordingly; and praying that if he really wants to test the mettle of a city just out of the blocks on the long road to recovery, that he isn’t out for blood.

Three Shows Scheduled for Saturday July 12th:

11amSLT: Career Builder’s 1 year Anniversary Party

**Career Builder.com inSL Come party with us as we celebrate 1 year of presence inSL**

5pmSLT: Gracie Kendal’s Exhibition Closing at Blue Fusion
Gracie Kendal (Kristine Shomaker inRL)
“My art is most inspired by everyday experiences: a sunrise, a story in the news, a strikingly-wrapped gift. A single image can trigger an idea that I expand and develop, whether from a magazine, art history or pop culture. I think this happens because I love what life presents to us. I want people to see and feel, as I do, the aura that emanates from even the simplest things that constitute our experience of the world. I believe that life is too short. There are endless possibilities to what we can do. Expressing myself through art is my small contribution to this wonderful world we live in.” (excerpt from Kristine’s biography)
**Come to the gallery and celebrate her long exhibition at the Blue Fusion Art Gallery**

8pmSLT: Pat O’Briens in the French Quarter
with special guest: Beth Odets inSL
(Beth Brown, Violinist of Dallas band, Fish Fry Bingo ), performs along with Cylindrian (me) at Pat O’Briens for an hour of music with some added color.

**Thank you so much for joining me on this musical journey through Second Life(tm). If you’d like to receive updates on real life appearances and work with me to bring me to your town please sign up for my street team at: ReverbNation
**If you’d like to listen to some of my music and some covers and vote for the songs you like: TheSixtyOne

In anticipation of my culinary adventure to New Orleans, I created a checklist of foods that I must experience in my five days here. The list includes:

1. Savoring a cup of chicory coffee

2. Noshing on a hot, finger-licking beignet

3. Cracking open and eating some Cajun crawfish (bonus points for sucking the head)

4. Enjoying either gumbo or jambalaya

5. Sipping a sweet, refreshing hurricane

I’m proud to say that not only did I accomplish all my gastronomical goals, I did so with vigor. It did help that the International Association of Culinary Professionals conference’s opening night reception offered opportunities to sample most of this delicious, authentic New Orleans cuisine. And yes, I did suck the crawfish head!

After indulging in beignets with chicory coffee (as good as anticipated!), gumbo, jambalaya and crawfish, Kris and I headed over to Pat O’Brien’s to sample their world-famous hurricanes. Sitting out on the patio of this iconic institution, we recounted all the amazing foods we tried on the first day of the conference and reveled in the significance of this historic foodie city that has been through so much these past few years.

By Kim Bedwell

Happy Fat Tuesday! 

Unfortunately, gone are the days when my friends and I could spend carefree hours (days, even!) wandering St. Charles in search of cheap plastic beads, aluminum coins, gallons of beer, and naked breasts!  We all have real jobs and real lives and we couldn’t possibly be bothered to drive all night to New Orleans, stay in a rickety shack in the Lower Ninth, spend all day/night in the Quarter, and speed home avoiding the Tennessee State Troopers.  Those were the days.

Some brief moments from those days gone by:

• Our first introduction to Mardi Gras was a young man who had soiled himself and was stumbling down the middle of the street barely upright…when suddenly he face-planted in the asphalt.  Fortunately for him, he was able to right himself before the police were alerted.  Where were this young man’s friends?  I forgot to mention…this was 10 a.m.
• We sat down to dinner one evening and John disappeared.  Moments later, he came bursting back through the restaurant to let us know that there was a girl outside showing her tits.  Little did we know at that moment that this particular occurrence would become almost mundane over the next 4 days.
• Kristen got tagged in the forehead with a clay medallion from the Bacchus parade.  Some guy tried to steal it from her, but she quickly corrected him saying, “NO!  If you get hit in the forehead with it, it’s yours to keep!”
• I forgot how many of my memories involved John…here’s another one.  John, obviously drunk from one too many Hurricanes at Pat O’Brien’s, said audibly to the rest of the van in a slurred voice, “This is good turkey.”  Everyone heard it.
• I flashed Julee for some beads one night as we were walking throught the gay section of Mardi Gras.  I still have those beads.
• Quick memories: Stephen snoring, John’s “telephone polish”, the Hooters guy from Canada, What’s a muffuletta — I don’t know, but I’m getting one, $4 for the bathroom, HUGE ASS BEERS!
• One final John memory.  We got pulled over by the Tennessee State Trooper for speeding on our way home.  John wakes everybody up and has us put our hands in the air (like we just don’t care!) and then after some mild questioning, John proceeded to offer the trooper some of our beads.  To his credit, he politely declined and asked us not to speed through his state.

Ah, Mardi Gras…we hardly knew ye.  Still, tomorrow begins the long 40 days of Lent wherein I begin my vegetarian sojourn.  Wish me luck.

See you in the funny papers!