First off… Who knew Creole is a New Orleans reference and Cajun a Lafayette? And, how ’bout me using the correct moniker based on our location… ok so I fell into that shit solely by luck – I prefered ‘Creole Karen’ so I used it 1st – still I’m pretty badass.
Creole Karen woke up not too awfully bad off considering the daiquiries, beers and 1/2 hurricane I downed the day before. New Orleans was great but we were ready to head west and… after 20 minutes trying to get back to the very same streets we schlepped the previous 2 days, we did just that – headed west, forgoing the beignets I vowed to make a priority. I don’t even know how to explain a 3 block radius confusing us from the different angle of car vs. foot but, alas… there we were on I10 west transitioning Creole Karen to Cajun Karen sans Louisiana’s finest contribution to diabetes.
The drive to Lafayette was somethin’. Torrential downpours and swamp lands… the entire interstate is essentially a low hanging bridge. Bridges bother me – swamp life scares the shit outta me. I looked at Dan and said, “While it’s true we ARE technically on a bridge, and my usual bridge -crossing practice is to have my hand on the window button should we go over; let me just say – here… in this spot… I’m goin’ down with the fuckin’ car. Close the vents and lets hope I’m dead before those asshole reptiles get to me…”
We (finally) made it safely to Avery Island. Dan’s mecca; his Graceland… His.Lambeau.Field. I thought I was hearing a choir as we pulled into the parking lot (I did …it was him). We’d made it just in time for the food tour – 3 hours well spent! I only spit 1 thing into my napkin the entire time (boudin casing); the most stomach churning of all? The Bears fan I hada keep sitting next to…. We’ll go back tomorrow to tour the bottling plant and blow our retirement on Tabasco toenail clippers and such.
On the way to our hotel we stopped at a microbrewery to get a highly coveted craft beer for my favorite USPS guy, Brandon. They were sold out but had a last keg on draught – I’m assuming the picture of us throwing back a ‘Ghost in the Machine’ didn’t really hold the same appeal for Brandon as drinking one himself.
After getting situated in our room we found a place to eat (so much for the food tour being the entire day’s sustenance) and it was ridiculous! The Boil 1/2 and 1/2 (2lbs crawfish and 1/2 lb gulf shrimp) was worth every mile driving over snakes and gators! The waitress said, “regular or spicy? Probably regular…” so… of course I had to get the spicy – lots of sniffling, whistling and sweating (and that was before the meal came – bad dum ting). A quick glance around the room helped me quickly pick out the jackasses – latex gloves people? Really??? At one point I rolled my eyes and said, “I hate that family from their ear-piercing, squealing baby right down to their pansy ass plastic gloves!” Once I hit maximum density I headed to the bathroom to wash up – I stopped short at the row of sinks outside the bathrooms (these people are on it). First I pressed the soap dispenser and completely tore it off the wall – the guy next to me didn’t even snicker, who keeps a straight face during that mess? After the reassembling, I rinsed and reached over to the 2 paper towel machines next to me – I waved my hand in front of, under, to the side of the damned machines to no avail. …for like 3 solid minutes (I’m nothing if not persistent); finally Mr. Straight-face says, “I’m pretty sure they’re both empty how ’bout you try these on this wall.”
I turned just in time to see the jackasses deglove and walk out…
Shoulda’ wore the gloves.