Part One: Cooter Forest
Me: "Are we driving on a bike path?"
Jordan: "No, we're driving on a sidewalk."
My boots are now soaked in swamp water because the drunkards at the bonfire sent us across a marsh. Determined that we were safe from the swamp wildlife because we were in COOTER forest, technically Couturie Forest, and the only thing we need to beware of is the giant cooter roaming the land. Thankfully, the desperate cooter did not burst from the underbrush and devour us. I'd rather not be stuck inside of a cooter; I prefer gators.
We find the other members of the society.
Whiskey.
Bourbon.
Vodka.
More Bourbon.
Start chasing things with Coors Light.
Wine.
More Vodka.
I remember being impeached of my own name.
We all hopped back into the car and somehow ended up back on campus.
Intermission
I decided it would be a good plan to call my friend Maddy in my state, partially because I had a "great" plan to leave a note under an attractive man's door and I needed her to let me into her building.
Maddy was not home.
I was commanded to run to the streetcar stop.
Part Two: Tour de Franzia
And the madness begins.
Apparently, I made it onto the streetcar.
I recall being told that I was going to be cut-off because I was singing to strangers.
That didn't work that well.
Then we began our adventure.
Do not remember a vast majority of this, but I have pictures.
Do not know what possessed us to drink in front of the Supreme Court of Louisiana.
I ended up on Royal Street. I'm guessing I was trying to stand on my own.
I look possessed. Ironically, the hotel we are standing by is haunted.
Well, atleast that is what Justin said.
I hope he's right.
Then my odd stance would actually be excusable.
I actually recall this. I was in a fountain. Everyone was telling me it was a bad idea.
If I recall things correctly, they were wrong.
I remember a taxi honking very loudly at us.
If I were the taxi, I would honk too.
We were having far too much fun to not be acknowledged.
Things are getting strange.
As a sidenote, I have caution tape and a coke bottle tied to my purse.
It's actually a GREAT idea. If you find pretty rocks and shells, they have a container.
If you need to hold a bottle of some sort, more caution tape to tie up another bottle instead of having to carry it.
It's innovative, not hobo-esque.
Meet Saxophone Man.
Meet Joe, the street vendor.
Meet Dustin, the fancy New York guy.
Meet Daphne.
She gave us green jello shots.
That may be why I am in the background making more weird faces.
I am not dead, leading me to believe that strangers on Decauter are trustworthy.
Meet Austin.
I'm very fond of Krystal Burger; however,
I wasn't too fond of this man.
He was rude to my friends and kept telling me I was beautiful.
He called someone white trash.
He's from Austin, Texas.
And to end the night with a bang, I played in a fountain on campus.
Then,
I wrote a note to the guy I like and slid it under his door.
Atleast I managed to get my one goal of the night done.
Ironically, that is the one thing I regret from last night.
I'll post updates.
And in a British accent, this quote comes from this adventure.
"It is not proper to smoke in a tweed jacket. If you are to have a smoking jacket, you should own a nice velvet jacket. That would be quite nice."
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