I recently visited New Orleans and instantaneously fell in love with the Big Easy. During my stay there I wandered aimlessly around the French quarter from early AM until sundown. In which time I would go back to our hotel to meet Mike after his long work day. Anywho I learned an awful lesson one Friday afternoon. Nola weather in June has a lethal amount of humidity that literally chokes you and mixing that with double Mango Rum Punches is no bueno. I thought I’m on vacation so having several and by several I mean five of these bad boys within a four hour time span was a grand idea. My memory is quite bleak from that afternoon. I remember texting pics to Mike boasting of my day drinking debauchery. I also remember not drinking one iota of water that day, because why? I was on vacation dammit and quenching your thirst in the life draining humidity of Nola in the middle of June with Mango Rum Punches was clearly acceptable, or so I thought.
As the afternoon progressed I felt myself getting giddier so I thought what the hell let me go dry and sop up some of this booze with greasy food. I found this cool little 50’s style diner called Belle’s. It was so cute that I couldn’t contain myself.
I wanted to sit at the counter and have lunch. Of course there were a few other patrons sitting there that my day drunk self decided to befriend. I am a vivacious loud individual by nature so perhaps they did not catch on to my being a tab bit inebriated. Of course I look at their drink menu and behold the Belle’s Southern Punch. How could I possibly resist? Light Rum, Spiced Rum, Dark Rum, OJ, Pineapple, Cranberry and Grenadine. Captain Jack Sparrow would have been proud of this little rummie. It was so delightful I downed two before my food even hit the counter. Perhaps it was a bit dumb (for lack of a better term) to have the meal placed before me. The War Bird, Fried Chicken Breast, Provolone Cheese, Bacon and Honey Mustard on a Brioche Bun and of course a side of fries. It was so mother effing delicious. Rum, lots of it, bacon, greasy fried chicken what could possibly be bad about this combination? (We’ll get to that in a bit.) I think I even had dessert I honestly can’t remember. I remember having conversations with the other counter folks, I couldn’t tell you about what though. I do remember seeing someone with three pugs and going bonkers over their cuteness. I do however remember when all of the rum punch hit me.
As I was eating my sandwich I started feeling a slight pain on the top of my head. At the time I just figured it was from the heat and not eating anything. But as I was walking up Decatur Street from the French Market the pain got worse. At one point I started to feel that sensation that everyone dreads from having a little too much of grandpa’s old cough syrup. Immediately I called an uber to head back to the hotel as I knew if I walked the rest of the way there would be horrific consequence to pay. I texted Mike on my way back letting him know what was going on. I felt awful that he would be coming back to a dramatic drunk girlfriend after a long day at work. Thankfully he is the most loving and understanding guy a girl could ever ask for. He could wait to get to me to “rub my little head”.
Once back at the hotel I literally stumbled back to the hotel room. Immediately I jumped in the shower sat down and let the hot water hit the top of my head. This helped about as much as Helen Keller could help me pick out an outfit to wear to dinner. The inevitable began to happen…..the horrible wretched sounds started coming from me and up came all of it. It was awful like drunk frat boy awful. I felt like death so I finished showering and went to lay in bed. I fell asleep I think but became restless and get sick again. Over an hour, I sat at the bottom of the tub in the dark trying to get rid of this awful feeling. It was futile at this point. I finally fell asleep and woke up to Mike rubbing my head and started to get that awful feeling again. Poor Mike was hungry and he had to leave the hotel room, because the smell of anything at this point would give me the heaves.
The moral of the story – if you’re going to day drink while walking around New Orleans in mid-June humidity, DON’T!