He runs into yet another possibly homeless man; this one offers KJ a kitchen knife and lets him know he may need it a few blocks ahead.

My recent trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, as mentioned in a previous story, was a weekend filled with the consumption of enough alcohol to put the Olsen twins in a coma for at least a year.

In all our inebriation, it became very easy to become separated from the group; it happened quite frequently. The fact that we did not set up a meeting place for when we got lost in New Orleans made for some hilarious stories.

Two of my friends and I managed to stay together and took a cab back to the hostel with no problem. My other two friends, Dan and KJ got lost; Dan decided to try to find a cab, but none of the cab drivers knew where our place was. KJ, not one to waste a second while on vacation, decided to hit up the strip club and spend an obscene amount of money.

Once we got back to the hostel, we got a call from Dan who was also trying to make it back to the hostel. He was now on foot and from what we could tell could not have been more than a block from the place; we decided to use this opportunity to scare the living shit out of him. The manager of our hostel (whom we became best friends with immediately) wanted to get in on this prank as well. We headed outside and spotted our friend walking down the sidewalk still talking on the phone to us as we guided him back to the hostel. The manager (let’s call him Jon) put on a hooded sweatshirt with the hood up, lit a cigarette, lowered his head and began walking toward our friend in the opposite direction.

So this big ogre friend of mine is heading down the street and sees Jon. Keep in mind Dan is alone, lost, and New Orleans does not have the reputation of being the safest of cities.

Jon would look rather menacing to the unsuspecting pedestrian, so Dan was notably worried. As Jon comes up to the dumpster he stops and does not emerge into the viewpoint of my friend, at this point Dan said he was “mildly concerned.” As he passes, Jon jumps out from behind the dumpster at Dan. We are still on the phone with him and hear him say “Oh shit!” as he strikes this Notre Dame Fighting Irishman pose. At this point we come from behind the corner, laughing our asses off, and Dan realizes that it’s Jon.

When he tells the story he usually likes to reiterate his mild concern through the whole ordeal and claims his defensive stance was something Liam Neeson would have pulled on those Albanian douche bags in Taken.

We had to wait until about five in the morning to hear the story of KJ’s night. We waited about as long as we could for him to come back, slightly worried as no one had heard from him, but knowing KJ was probably fine and had a ridiculous story to tell. So as I said KJ comes in at around five in the morning, still wired, not remotely slowed down.

KJ got separated from us around 2 AM I would guess, I tried to call him but his phone was dead, leaving him unable to contact any of us. As his story goes, he went immediately to first strip club he could find and got a private lap dance. I’m not sure if he spent the entire night in the strip club, but there is a good 2 hour gap for which he has no explanation.

His journey home is the funny part of the story. First off, he is wearing a shirt that reads “Fuck you, you fuckin’ fuck,” this doesn’t really have any impact on the story, it’s just funny.

On his walk home he runs into a man on a bike who offers to sell him a joint for five dollars. KJ agrees and pays the man only to find out the joint is a rolled up receipt that contains nothing. He walks after the man protesting about his business ethics, but is only able to argue for a while before the man rides off into the distance. A few more blocks down KJ runs into a man out walking his dog; they strike up a conversation and the man lights up a joint and offers him a few drags. I guess the world has a funny way of working itself out.

Further down KJ spots a peculiar sight: several grown men in wedding dresses having a party. Curious as to what was taking place, KJ heads into this house and inquires just that. The men inform KJ they are having a bachelor party for one of their buddies, why they were all dressed in wedding dresses was still a mystery.

KJ hangs out for a bit, has a few drinks, takes some pictures on his phone for proof, and moves on. As he gets closer to the hostel he runs into yet another possibly homeless man; this one offers KJ a kitchen knife and lets him know he may need it a few blocks ahead. Without question, KJ takes the knife, thanks the man and proceeds to the hostel; a situation never arises that calls for his kitchen knife. I wake up as KJ is coming in, wearing his FYYFF shirt and carrying his knife.

“Where’d you get that knife?” I ask him.

“Oh you mean my shank? My boy on the street gave it to me,” he replied.

Satisfied with this explanation for the moment, I fell asleep, knowing we would all be in for some crazy stories in the morning.