"It was Mardi Gras and my baseball team was down in Louisiana for the week playing some baseball. We had one off day on the entire trip and it just so happened to be on the day of Mardi Gras. So, we had a quick practice at 9am, got back to the hotel and it was time to head down to Bourbon Street. We were in there by noon and we had until 6 before we had to get back by the Super Dome. Basically, it was going to be six hours of madness before we had to go back to the hotel. I started out with a hand grenade and by two o'clock I was lit. We met a couple of my friends from home while we were there too. We're catching beads, seeing girls flash us every five feet, taking pictures with the most random people who just didn't give two shits and everyone was so incredibly fucked up. Our next stop was at some place with big wooden tables that I really don't remember too much of. All I remember was that they had this machine that you could check your BAC and I couldn't figure out how to blow into the thing. It probably took me a good half hour to figure this thing out that's how drunk I was. I finally realized that my neck was starting to bother me, and then I felt my neck and I had an ungodly amount of beads on me. Literally, it had to weigh close to five pounds. We went back to the hotel and I passed out. I woke up at like 8 o'clock still hammered, walked to the waffle house across the street from my hotel by myself. Sat at the bar, ate without saying two words to anyone and then got back to my hotel room and went right back to bed. Didn't wake up until 9 the next morning. Day drinking at Mardi Gras, if you don't bring your A game, you're pretty much fucked."
The best part of this story is that you ate at a waffle house by yourself after all was said and done. Nice job Stephen Glansburg.
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