Such a New Orleans day – food, booze, music, and dancing on the pool table at F&Ms (New Orleans)

I awoke with the best intentions.  Without trying to disturb anyone I changed into workout gear, grabbed my key and was about to go out the door when I ran into Matt.  Matt not only engaged me in lively conversation, but managed to talk me out of a run and into a bloody mary and crepes.

We headed to the Quarter, grabbed the requisite Muffaletta from Progress Grocery and grabbed a couple of drinks at, where else, but Patty O’s, where Matt ran into his former casino friend Toby, Queen of the Quarter. Ah, good ole’ Pat O’Brien’s.  Hazy memories of Mardi Gras debauchery tugged at the corners of my mouth.

With Patsy at an awards dinner that night, Matt and I continued our bon temps at Jacquimo’s on Oak by the Maple Leaf Tavern. Mmm, jambalaya-stuffed quails with corn macquechou and brussels sprouts (never willingly ordered those before.) Matt knew Jacques, so after our meal we shared a shot of some wicked Czech liquid with him and our waitress Eve.  Next stop, Henry Butter at the Bons Temps. Of course Matt knew the bartender, and I chatted with him while Matt got progressively more soused. Yes, I admit it – my chauffeur was shitfaced and I knew it. Earlier in the day I had forgotten how hard Matt drinks. Nice reminder.

Our next stop (and, as it were, final, thank goodness) was the legendary F&M patio bar where we hung out with Matt’s friend (!) Sean the bartender, a “nice Jewish boy” who allegedly didn’t have much luck with the ladies.  Unfortunately, Sean was in a grumpy mood because he was out of pocket from someone swiping $40 off the bar, but he was a good sport about keeping my glass constantly filled… with water.  I had been slowing down since the third hurricane earlier that evening, and by 3 am I was quite content with New Orleans’ Best Tap. Matt, however, knew no limits until finally he exclaimed, on probably his 30th drink of the day,

“I’m finally drunk.”

Hoo boy.

When he was telling me an interactive story about a guy grabbing him around the neck, I wasn’t too pleased about the headlock in which I found myself.  Then he insisted I get up on the now-covered pool table and dance.  I tried desperately to dissuade him but – shwooop – I was hoisted onto the “stage”.  Fortunately, Matt didn’t try any wild moves for which I was grateful seeing as I was wearing a short miniskirt with verrrry small underwear.

While I was on the pool table trying not to flash my booty I noticed a rather attractive guy standing close by. When I saw him looking at me (I think… I hope?) with a slightly-cocked head and dreamy bedroom eyes, I was rather flattered if not somewhat aroused. But alas, I was too shy and did not speak to him, even when he ended up standing next to me at the bar (by design?). Regrettably, he ended up in the arms (well, actually passed out on the shoulders) of another woman, and a night of salacious sexual awakening was snuffed out.  At 4 am I finally dragged Matt out of there and made it home, virtue and limbs intact.