What would happen after the zombies that overtook a city died of old age or STDs and surviving humans were safe to come back? The humans would return to a place they used to live but could no longer be recognized as home. The once majestic buildings would be a skeleton of their former selves, the hobo filled streets would be littered with garbage, and McDonalds would be recently remodeled to include sheik bar stools and lightning quick wifi as to connect with hip young kids.
I give you New Orleans.
Deciding to build a city below sea level with only unproven levees keeping the whole place from becoming a swimming pool even a kid with a super concerned mother would be allowed to dive probably wasn’t a great idea. Still, just like how Grown Ups 2 is about to hit a theater near you, that’s just the way it is.
I left some of my most cherished friends on earth in the rear view mirror when I set out for this post-apocalyptic paradise of debauchery. Saying bye to kids you spent a good chunk of your life with, like any stupid fucking decision, can only be done one way: quickly. If I’d gotten with more girls I might’ve been comfortable enough with my heterosexuality to cry, but I’m skinny and snicker at the word “it,” so with crying out of the equation I bit my lip and sped out of Bloomington telling myself I was headed to Kroger to get beer for a pregame. After missing the nearby Kroger I told myself I had no choice but to go to the one in Louisville. With the guys depending on me for the alcohol I’d have to pick up the beer in Birmingham. Finally the sleep gods briefly let me out of my misery.
We arrived in New Orleans at 8am. We is me (Michael), Jake, and Cooper. Jake and Cooper came to New Orleans not for the tourist attractions or to salvage the used condoms littering the streets, but for the gambling. After a McDonalds breakfast that met every requirement of impending cardiac arrest we entered Harrah’s Casino passing a placard advertising a help-line for gambling addicts. With 10 grand in cash, going on two days without sleep and fueled only by Red Bull and greed my friend Jake somewhat applied. Having only $500 in cash Cooper wasn’t quite as much of a degenerate, and I was the all-star of the group but only because I’m broke. After an hour my friends were collectively down two grand so I left the casino figuring I was bad luck.
Almost immediately I was lucky enough to stumble upon Lil Wayne’s childhood home:
Right after that I visited city hall:
And then I stopped and took a picture with the prettiest girl in all of New Orleans:
Still glowing from my chance encounters I walked around Bourbon Street (Mardi Gras spot), Canal Street (still has water marks on buildings from Katrina flooding) and the French Quarter (French people are soft.) Self-conscious of flying solo I spent most of the time looking around confused like I’d just lost my friends.
I also checked out the bay which was as dark and polluted as the devil’s heart, watched a jazz trumpeter yell at people who walked by, and bought a reasonably priced ice cream sandwich. The only friend I made was a caterpillar I met next to a tree who ended up inching away from me. He said he couldn’t hang out because he’d already made plans but I think he was just being polite. The only lowlight was having to dodge countless bums. Looking back I realize I was wrong to judge them as I’m unemployed and homeless too.
As midnight approached I said bye to my buds that still hadn’t slept and were just about to start another high stakes poker game. In line for my bus to Austin I met two super independent girls that went to art school in New York and were travelling across the country on a whim just to get away from it all. I lost track of them when one, almost in tears, got out of line to call her mom for help in tracking down the bus confirmation number that she 100% had five minutes ago.
After boarding the bus I passed out within seconds because I was tired and drugs are effective.