Mardi Gras, the rest of the story!

Okay, so maybe I wasn't entirely forthright when writing one of my previous blogs.  It has been brought to my attention that I left out some of the more "relevant details" of the infamous Mardi Gras road trip.  People who know the entire story, but who shall remain nameless, have threatened to suspend my literary license unless I come clean and inform my readers of "the rest of the story".

Let's pick it up where five very tired and somewhat cranky young men from Kansas are approaching the outskirts of the Big Easy.  It's late afternoon, we're all sober, unbathed, unshaven, unfed, and really tired of each others company after fifteen hours in the car.  We have very little money except for our ringleader who wisely thought to "borrow" his daddy's credit card.

Someone finally said "Let's find a motel and grab a shower before we hit Bourbon Street".  "That sounds like an excellent idea, 'cause the smell in this car is making my hair curl....Hey, there's a Howard Johnson right over there on the left" came directions shouted from the back seat.  I'm driving and cut across two lanes of traffic to make the turn.....Oh crap, four lanes of traffic with all the cars going the same way.....except me!  Horns blasting, tires screeching, and we make an "emergency exit" into a service station on the right.

We regained our composure and made it to the Howard Johnson where we showered, donned our same old dirty clothes, and headed out to see the sights.  By now it's dark outside, and as we've already exhibited, our navigational skills are suspect.  But, we made our way down to Bourbon Street....hmmm lots of hot spots to explore.  Hey, these folks are serious about being twenty-one to gain entry....what's that all about!  Remember, none of us are even remotely close to being the legal age, so all we were able to do was peek through the doors, and that soon lost its appeal.

Despite all of our bravado, we were unnerved by some of the more "unkempt" gents who seemed to appear whenever we turned a corner.  Time to give it up and go home. 

We had driven about two blocks when a car pulled in front of us and blocked our way, then another blocked us from the back.  Once again, "Oh crap".  Suddenly, there were blue lights flashing from both cars and we were being ordered out of the car...not gently, I might add.  Those same "unkempt" fellows were all over us, "Up against the car!  Spread em!"  This was a first for me, and it was really scary.  Then, they started searching the car....no search warrant needed....probable cause?  Not a peep of objection from us.

Suddenly, one of them jumps out of the car and says "Okay, where's the gun?" as he waves a small leather pouch filled with .22 shells.  I think this is where we started to cry.  "Sir, we don't have a gun, I just keep those shells in the console for when we go target shooting back home."  "I don't believe you son, where's the gun?" he growled back.  Finally, after much groveling and pleading, the undercover cops began to soften up.  After all, who could make this stuff up, and before long we were all joking and laughing about our predicament.

Now, it really is time to get back to the motel for a little sleep before heading home. "We're lost aren't we?  Do you know where you're going?"  Two hours later, and a few close encounters in the more unsavory parts of New Orleans, we found our way to the good old Howard Johnson motel.

So now you know the rest of the story, or at least most of it.  There are still a few odds and ends that will always remain locked away, Especially some of the harrowing experiences on the drive home....too fast, too tired, and too young to know better.  By the Grace of God we survived to see another day.  I'm still glad we did it, but road trips are for the young at heart....aren't they?  Oh well, what the heck do I know anyway.