I have a confession to make. It's very embarrassing, and I know that I'm going to brand myself forever by revealing it, but here it is: I don't know what "emo" is. What the hell is emo? A fashion trend? A type of music? A Muppet gone bad? Tell me! Tell me!
Okay. I feel cleansed now.
The Kim and Clare visit has been a lot of fun. Clare got in on Saturday, and that night she and Kim and Adam and K&B and I all went out. K&B always have really good ideas for going out, so they suggested that we go downtown to 360 degrees, the rotating bar atop the World Trade Center (yes, we have one here; no, I don't know why it's called that), and then take the ferry over to Algiers Point. An excellent plan.
So we get downtown (after a parking fiasco that I won't bore you with here). K&B have beaten us there and ridden the elevator up to take a look at the bar and its clientele, and say, in B's words, "No fucking way." It turns out that there was a woman in their elevator who struck up a conversation with a young kid. It went like this:
Scary Slutty Woman: How old are you, kid? I reckon you can't be a day over 18.
Terrified Teenager: I'm 24.
SSW: Eighteen! I just LOVE 18! So handsome! Look at that tight ass! Honey (calling her husband), come on over here and look at this sweet little piece of 18!
SSW then begins grinding against poor little Eighteen, shoving him against the wall of the elevator, and her husband comes over and helpfully completes a SSW sandwich by grinding on her booty.
So we didn't go there.
There was a brief debate afterwards over whether we should go to Whiskey Blue in the W (overpriced, but w/ interesting lighting), or head on over to Algiers for some less fancy fun. I was in the bathroom while this debate raged, so when I got out they made me choose, and I chose Algiers.
So we get to our little English pub, settle down with our beers, and suddenly B says, "Hmm, I wonder when the last ferry goes back across the river? We should keep an eye on that." So I go ask the bartender. The last ferry goes back at 12:15. It is now 12:30. We have taken the Last Ferry to Algiers, which we immediately realize is an excellent name for a Southern Gothic short story. [Of course, we are complete dumbasses, and I was blamed for choosing Algiers, but in my defense let me say that 1.) I never use the ferry and trusted K&B completely, and 2.) everyone knows I'm idiot about such things. I lose my keys each and every day! Don't trust me!] So we do the only possible thing in this situation: we drink heavily.
To make a long story slightly shorter, Yvette came and rescued us when she got off work, so we didn't have to take taxis or sleep on the levy. I got very drunk, and was made fun of the next day. And Kim and Clare now have a N.O. night that they'll always remember. Adam suggested that for an encore maybe we could get someone to drive us to Houma and drop us off in the mall parking lot.
We took Kim to the airport yesterday, but we still have a few more Clare days. I took tomorrow off to spend with her. It's really good to see them, but strange, too, to see the ways that people change--and don't--over the course of eight years. More on this later, maybe.
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