Ladies and Gentledudes, the long-awaited recap of the NOLA Big Sleasy trip is finally here! For those of you who are not a part of this crew of misfits, it’s necessary to explain that there is a band of 10 brothers who formed an immaculate fantasy football league that takes an annual (for the last 3 years anyway) trip to a new destination to draft players for our fantasy football teams. This is our trip in a nutshell documented by yours truly AKA Bread.

Our lovely getaway starts on Thursday, August 30^th and goes through Monday, September 3^rd, so through Labor Day Weekend.

Thursday, August 30^th

Commish, Taco, and I flew in late Thursday evening, getting picked up from the airport around 11:00PM by Shit-Balls, abbreviated SB, and Dr. Karatechop, AKA the Champ (so aptly named because he won the league the previous year). They so kindly and appropriately “hid” 3 separate Smirnoff ices in plain view in their adorable Prius so that the three of us would have to chug them at the hotel when we got there. Michelle, who took last place last year in the league (AKA Taco), conveniently averted his eyes and claims to “not have seen” any of the ices in plain view. I knew that little bitch wasn’t going to grab his ice from the car so I hid it in his luggage knowing he would open it either at the hotel or our Air BNB the next day. Boy, was I wrong. But we’ll get to that later. It should be noted here that the hotel was located so close to a hospital that I genuinely thought that the hotel itself was a part of the hospital. Like some kind of AA rehab ward that would oddly enough be fitting for the five of us. Nonetheless, the first night for us in the Big Easy was overall very anticlimactic. Mostly farting, shitting, and bro talk. The highlight of night one was making Taco sleep halfway on a hotel chair and halfway on an ottoman. Imagine a 6’ 2” string bean of a human fitting onto 4 feet of sleeping space. It was the punishment he deserved so don’t feel bad for him.

Friday, August 31^st

The very first ‘touristy’ stop of our adventure the following morning was to Café Du Monde where we met the next member of our motley crew, JohnDenver. I knew the restaurant served coffee and beignets but I don’t think any of us realized that they ONLY served those items. So more substantial food would have to come soon. BTW, the world’s best beignets are served here hands down. If you think otherwise, you’re wrong. And surprisingly enough, the café wasn’t too crowded that morning. Thank you, Jesus. Following breakfast, we roamed the streets, grabbed road beers, and checked out a few sights in walking distance.

Lunch that afternoon was at the one and only Grand Isle for classic NOLA cuisine: alligator sausage po boys and oysters galore (shout out to a friend of mine Scuba Steve for the restaurant recommendation, thanks boo). Along with lunch were beers and cocktails, obv. While we were at lunch, an ungodly sideways downpour of the thickest raindrops known to (Arizona) man came down from the heavens. I honestly thought that we might get stranded in that delicious restaurant which would have been just fine. Luckily for us, and the rest of New Orleans, the rain stopped within the hour allowing us to frolic around the busy streets of NO.

By this time, we were properly liquored up and ready to recoup and get our lives together before the rest of the fellas got in. The time is 2:00PM and next to arrive would be PRKR who’s ETA was approximately 3:00PM. We arrived at the Air BNB a few hours before the designated “check-in time” but the place had been cleaned and prepared for us with no one currently at the residence. So, we assumed that we were welcome to set up shop. Essentially just nap until the rest of the crew trickled in throughout the evening. If only we knew the bitch-fit PRKR had in store for us when he found out we got in early. We called him when we got there telling him the condition of the place and that everything looked great, and he got so mad over the phone I could hear him shouting at Commish down the hall. Inevitably, the five of us argued with him so we could stay there and nap until he arrived. But alas, he ultimately won the argument because he did reserve the place and his precious Air BNB rating might drop if the cleaning crew caught us hooligans there before the designated check-in time. God forbid. So we loaded up the Prius with all our luggage again and set out to a nearby bar that JohnDenver found.

Alright, I’m done ragging on you PRKR. Coincidentally, the little dive-bar that JohnDenver found was pretty awesome. It had a pool table and was relatively empty. So we drank and pool’d until PRKR showed up about an hour later. We harassed him, bought each other drinks, bet on pool games, and enjoyed some good old fashioned shit-talkery.

We were given permission by PRKR to head back to the Air BNB after our dive bar shenanigans and room choices were allocated according to the previous year’s FF rankings. This year’s Air BNB had three separate bedrooms and two of the fanciest air mattresses I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. Essentially two people per sleeping place gave us enough room for 10 people to sleep comfortably. While the majority of people napped and set up the N64 (Smash Bros, NFL Blitz, etc.), Taco was unanimously volunteered as tribute to go grocery shopping with Dr. Karatechop. The dynamic duo returned from CostCo with a smorgasbord of beer, water, snacks, Pedialyte, and commercial sized bottles of vodka that wouldn’t get touched the entire trip.

Dinner that night was predetermined to be at a chic little bistro within walking distance, appropriately named Ye Olde College Inn. We were smart to find this place before coming to Louisiana because as the rest of the dirtbags rolled in, people stopped considering water as a beverage option and started getting progressively drunker as time passed. Enter SpaceGhost, Duttin, and OwenWilson as the last to arrive. Now it was officially party time. Beer and liquor were being consumed easier than Jerrick McKinnon tore his ACL (too soon?). Commish had brought a few nifty trinkets on this trip, one of which was an audio recorder that was brought out for every occasion because we had to record the debauchery somehow since no one in our group knows how to properly document events with pictures. Another trinket, and perhaps Dex’s best idea yet, were smelling salts just in case any pussies tried to back out of any part of this trip like last year. *cough* OwenWilson *cough*

Before we visit the Bourbon Street tales, it’s important to mention that over Labor Day Weekend in New Orleans there is an event called Decadence. Think of this as New Orleans gay pride extravaganza.

With that being said, we headed back to the Air BNB after dinner for a proper T-Shirt Time bumpin Kendrick and Lil Dicky as loud as possible on our portable speakers. After all the shitting, shaving, and showering, we headed out for our first night on Bourbon.

In our classic move, Commish and I grabbed an Uber and split from the herd. We put in a random address on Bourbon and told the Uber driver to let us out at the easiest spot for him. Little did we know that there is a ‘more gay’ part of Bourbon Street and a ‘less gay’ part, especially during Decadence. We entered the more gay part looking like an adorable couple. The streets were flooded with dudes in different style leather harnesses and ass-less chaps. There were so many guys crammed into one place that it was strictly limited to pole-to-pole, hole-to-hole, and the dreaded pole-to-hole positions. No positions could be avoided. We quickly got a road-beer at the nearest bar and started on our way toward our hoodrat friends down the street. This is where the real action was found. Still a lot of gay pride celebrators but much less crowded. And the crowds at this end weren’t nearly as handsy with us. That’s not to say I didn’t like the attention. The gay dudes were still out for our beefcake stud of a friend SpaceGhost. Sorry not sorry big guy. Think of all those gropes as compliments.

As we were walking along we found a suitable high-energy bar and headed up to the balcony with drinks and handfuls of beads, and started singing what I like to refer as “titty-chants.” We spent the night yelling at girls walking around on the street to show us there ta-ta’s for our oh so colorful beads. The hooter quality was definitely hit or miss but the quantitty (see what I did there?) was unreal…I mean my God…I can’t believe that’s a thing!

Too many too count. And as the saying goes, if somethings not broken, don’t fix it. So we planted ourselves there for the night. At least that’s what my memory recalls…My only regret for this night was drinking to completion and having SB escort me home because I physically, and let’s face it, mentally couldn’t have made it on my own. And yes, he did hold my hair while I puked on the side of the Air BNB once we got back. Thanks buddy, let’s just put that on my tab shall we?

Saturday, September 1^st

Needless to say, I was definitely hung over the next morning. Which was perfect for pulling off my next trick, which I will name the oddly-satisfying-cold-feet-in-the-shower-trick (name in progress). What you do is wake up feeling horrible/nauseous, chug approximately half a gallon of cold water, get into to the shower immediately after, let loose the juice(AKA hurl) all over the tub you’re standing in and let the cool refreshing water sooth you as it washes over your feet. And believe it or not, you actually feel better. PRKR agrees with me so the rest of you can fuck off.

After that lovely morning routine, we made about 5 pots of coffee for the house and got everyone proper ready for draft day! Caffeine wasn’t our only stimulant though, and this is where Commish again deserves more praise, the smelling salts were being passed around more than a juul at your nearest fratbag convention. I swear the faces some of these guys made, JohnDenver and Dr. Karatechop here’s to looking at you, I could swear I got a glimpse of their souls. While the salts and caffeine were being ingested, two of our guardian angels OwenWilson and Dr. Karatechop went on a very necessary mission for breakfast burritos. And when they returned it was draft time baby!! (For a full recap of the actual draft please refer to our podcast, 10Guys1Pod at the following link: https://www.youtube.com). I won’t bore you with all the little draft details but I will let you know that I drafted the strongest team, minus Jerrick McKinnon who actually happened to tear his ACL during our draft, I believe it was 4^th or 5^th round that we got the news.

Following the draft, the real degenerates of the group (I’m just jealous I didn’t go) went to the casino. SB, Dr. Karatechop, JohnDenver, and Duttin didn’t bother cleaning themselves up, they just DGAF’d it and headed straight for the blackjack tables. Word on the street for all those mavericks is that by end of the trip, every gambler lost money except for our previous FF champion, Dr. Karatechop. Congulatulations Dr. Faggot! The rest of us responsible hoodlums rested and played video games and beer pong to recoup for the long night ahead.

It was pretty late by the time we decided to head out for dinner and find an area with Gucci looking classic NOLA food. While some of the kitchens in the area were closed, we found a nice hole-in-the-wall restaurant that let the six of us eat before shutting down for the night, Fiorellas on Frenchmen St. It was a hefty dinner of gumbo, seafood mac and cheese, and char-broiled oysters. It was here that the four casino brothers met us to continue raging into the night. Those strong enough to stay out that night were myself, OwenWilson, SB, Dr. Karatechop, Gad, and Duttin. The other nancies called it a night early to have a little rub and tug action back at the house.

This night holds a little more clearly in my memory stores. We went to some country bar with a mechanical bull downstairs that had an amazing balcony with great views. OwenWilson was kind enough to supply us with about a dozen beads each, and as tradition would have it the bar also sold beads by the dozen. While nursing a beer on that balcony, I met my favorite person of the trip. I can’t remember her name but she was a very aggressive chanter and got the crowd going. Her, and eventually my own, favorite chant went as follows:

“TITS OUT FOR THE BEADS (slow), TITS OUT FOR THE BEADS (fast)! SAY WHAT!?!?”

Then, as if right on cue, tits and beads were flying about in every direction. It’s like an adult degenerate Disneyland, the happiest place on earth. This is where my body really started to feel its toll and it was time to head back to the Air BNB. Myself, Dr. Karatechop, JohnDenver, and Duttin grabbed an Uber with the sweetest southern chick of a driver we had that whole trip. Her choice in music was Adelle and Alicia Keys, which really got Dr. Karatechop’s blood flowing. He immediately took over the music to play his favorite acoustic Alicia Keys song and sang along with it like the beautiful angel he is. The cherry on top was when JohnDenver started freestyling during the piano interlude. Our driver went ballistic with excitement when this happened as we pulled into our driveway. Definitely one of the top highlights of this trip. From here, with spirits lifted, we proceeded inside where Dr. Karatechop played jazz music on his phone and proceeded to fall asleep on the john. A moment that will go down in snapchat infamy.

While we got home and called it a night, the real heroes of tonight, OwenWilson and SB got a second wind and headed to one of the many fine gentlemen’s club in the Bourbon St. area. The events of that night will stay in NOLA for the sake of these two fellas. Let’s just say by the end of the night, these two genuinely believed that strippers liked them because of all the “attention” they got. To be fair, they did only spend $100 each over the course of 6 hours, from 12:00AM to 6:00AM. They came back the following morning smelling of cheap perfume and covered in glitter, and I mean covered. SB got some on me when he jumped onto my air mattress when he got in. I’m debatably more proud of you two than anyone else during this trip strictly for the fact that yous twos spent more time out on the town than the rest of us grandpas. Well done chaps.

Sunday, September 2^nd

Today was our most “touristy” day as I like to think of it. By this time, the majority of us were all boozed out and want a relatively easy day before heading back to the real world tomorrow. Since we already hit up Bourbon St., Frenchmen St., and cruised the French Quarter, it was time to see what Magazine St. had to offer. We found a breakfast place, Another Broken Egg Café, that suited our needs. Unfortunately, we had to wait over an hour for a table, but the wait was well worth it. The crawfish omelets, cinnamon French toast, flavored cold brews, and beignets were heavenly. They were so filling in fact that our lovely comrade OwenWilson had to go home because he was on a countdown to a food-coma and diarrhea city; that and he can’t handle his hangovers like he did in his ASU glory days anymore (#GoDevils). The rest of us started walking down Magazine St. that was full of small local shops. It had a very shop-centric feel to it that I imagine would be every girls’ dream. But we’re men. Manly men. So instead of heading into the boutiques, we went straight into the craft beer store to grab road beers judged by the art on the outside of the cans. We were on our way to the World War II museum (another great recommendation from the one and only Scuba Steve) but unfortunately the cost of admission was more than any of us were willing to pay. This where is where JohnDenver, SpaceGhost, Dr. Karatechop, Taco, Commish, and SB decided to head back as well. Leaving only myself, PRKR, and Duttin to spend our last day in NOLA frolicking the French Quarter looking for souvenirs for friends and significant others.

First stop was Bourbon for the NOLA frozen drink classic, the hand grenade. Think about those frozen Fat Tuesday drinks but small size and just as, if not more potent. Also, colored green. With drinks in hand, we headed to Madam Laveau’s voodoo shop for that dope voodoo swag. It was a lot less terrifying than what I originally thought it would be like. I didn’t realize voodoo stuff also focused on healing people as well as harming them. The voodoo dolls did creep me out a bit, not gonna lie. The next stop was a spontaneous walk inside of a hot-sauce shop. We were most attracted to the “Free Samples!” sign outside the entrance. Being normal responsible adults, PRKR and I tried the normal sauces that stood out to us as we walked past them while Duttin on the other hand went straight for the one hot sauce you had to sign a waiver for. You know, in case you died? The associate placed one small drop of the ghost pepper sauce on two tortilla chips and handed one to Duttin and another to a random girl. This girl lit up within 5 seconds of eating the chip, sweating profusely, while Duttin wasn’t even phased. And instead of taking this as a moral victory and leaving while he was on top, what does this asshole do? He grabs the ghost pepper hot sauce, places 4 to 5 drops on another tortilla chip and downs it…the following reaction was priceless.

To be fair, it did take a few moments for it to kick in. But once that mind-numbing burning sensation hit his body, it was off to the races. We left that store at an Olympic speed-walking pace to the nearest bar where Duttin immediately purchased the first frozen drink he saw and, I shit you not, downed in in like 3 minutes. Tongue still slightly burning and eye sockets perspiring lightly he finally cooled down on our walk to the next and final stop of day. Ps. he also got “accidentally” drunk again from hammering that frozen drink so soon after drinking a hand grenade. The last stop on the east end of the French Quarter was the French Market. This was essentially an outdoor market that resembled a farmer’s market mixed with a decent quality swap meet. The market provided beverages, food, and handmade items for different uses. Both PRKR and I grabbed a few things while perusing the aisles for a good 45 minutes before getting the Uber back to the Air BNB.

Nothing crazy happened once we got back to the Air BNB besides some much-needed R&R. We ordered some pizza from Hungry Howie’s down the street, admired the different style boxes NOLA Howie’s uses and finished some of the left-over booze lying around. Those of us that stayed in our last night drank, blogged, played video games, and shat talked about each other’s FF teams.

The three brave musketeers that still headed out for their last night in NOLA were OwenWilson, Dr. Karatechop, and Duttin. I was very surprised to see Duttin come back from his episode earlier. Dr. Karatechop was hell bent on going to a boat casino (or as he likes to call them, “crasino’s”) so they got a ride and were off. I unfortunately don’t have any information on what happened during their time at the boat crasino but I heard it was nice. Whatever the hell that means. They left the casino in hopes of reliving the previous night at a gentlemen’s club but were sorely let down upon arrival, where they swiftly headed to the next best place in New Orleans, Café Du Monde and enjoyed a night cap of coffee and beignets.

Monday, September 3^rd

Nothing of real importance to add here honestly. Everyone left at different times throughout the day, with Spaceghost and PRKR leaving earliest and SB, Dr. Karatechp, Duttin, and OwenWilson leaving latest. Whatever Pedialyte and water was left behind was consumed on our ways out and we said our goodbyes to New Orleans. Hope to be back one day! My only regrets were not making Taco physically join the Decadence parade, which took place on Sunday with his “Bride to Be” sash (you’re lucky you little bastard). And not scheduling a swamp tour. I still don’t know how feasible that actually would have been, but I guarantee you if we had gone to a swamp and saw some gators and crocs, we would have come out with more than a few good stories. Lastly, if I do make it back here, and I think the other fellas would agree, going to a few museums and learning a bit of the NOLA history would be pretty awesome. Till next time.

Last but not least, let’s see if you really paid attention. Remember that Smirnoff ice I mentioned at the beginning of the story, the one Taco so conveniently ignored when we got picked up from the airport? Well, karma’s a bitch. And so are you, Taco. When he placed his bag on the conveyor belt to have his TSA Pre-checked carry-on bag scanned, they inevitably pulled him aside. Just before Taco could put it together, Commish figured it out, and out came the Smirnoff ice. Now, I would like to think that Taco would have chugged it like a champ if TSA allowed him to, unfortunately they confiscated it. And that’s that.

Disclaimer:

All events documented were done so to the best of my memory, which let’s face it, is pretty shit at my best of times. And as of this writing, it’s been almost 3 weeks since we left. I’m sorry for the information I left out or got incorrect. But it is what it is.

Looking forward to our next Destination Draft in Chicago!! #10Guys1Cup #ChiTown #WindyCity #FuckDaniel