Monday, January 21, 2013

New Orleans vacation (11 of 11): New Years Eve.

For New Years Eve in the French Quarter, me and my one friend with the cat bet on how many people we'd see throw up.

Our rules:

1) We actually had to see them in the process of throwing up, not just someone leaning over and the pile of vomit already on the ground.

2) We had to leave whenever we felt like it, no stalling for time to try to win the bet.

At the end of the day, we only saw one guy throw up.

In New Orleans, they sell these hand grenade drinks in these distinctive green plastic containers that are fucking ridiculously huge:


At this one bar we popped into to get drinks around 11:30pm, this (20-something) (white) guy was passed out on a table next to one of them.

As we were in line, then, I look, and the guy kind of groggily wakes up, and as he slowly moves his head around, I can see this little gob of like opaque cream-colored white spit hanging languidly from the side of his mouth, and the next thing I know, he takes the empty hand grenade container, tips it a bit, leans forward, and just vomits up into it.

Then, he pauses, and vomits into more.

Then, he pauses even more, and vomits into it a final time, filling it up to like an inch-and-half from the top.

It was a plastic hand grenade container filled with vomit.

At that point, some bar staff came over to wake the guy up - he had passed out again - and wipe down the table.

As the guy staggered out, I could see a dark stain of vomit on the left elbow of his light yellow colored collared shirt he was wearing.

Worst of it is, since in the French Quarter you can walk around with drinks, I don't even think the guy had been drinking in that bar...  The bar didn't even sell hand grenades!

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