The thrilling conclusio… Well, maybe not, let’s see…
Oh man, I suck at the updates, lately. Sorry.
So, I’m drunk beyond belief, my drinking buddy is in OK shape, and our other friend has arrived. I take one bed, my buddy takes the other, third party grabs a patch of floor (he doesn’t mind.) I’ve been asleep for what seems like fifteen minutes, but may actually be as much as three hours, when there’s a knock at the hotel room door: my girlfriend and intended bride has arrived.
The good news is, I am not hung over. The bad news is, I am not hung over because I am still drunk. In point of fact, I am still drunk when afternoon rolls around. I stagger drunkenly to the door, let in the girlfriend, stop at the bathroom to heave for a bit, then head back to bed. I am pretty sure I hear my girlfriend complaining that the room reeks of booze, and wondering aloud who the hell is sleeping on the floor, but I am already drifting off.
Some hours later, I awaken, still dizzy and feeling tipsy, but now the buzz is wearing off and the booze is taking its toll. Dammit, I didn’t drink enough water. Stagger, heave, take a bow. It is in this impaired and unattractive state that I propose marriage to my girlfriend. I explain to her that I wanted to make a big surprise of it, but was unable to obtain the license the day before. I go on to explain that, furthermore, I am far to ill from my night of debauchery to go get a license now. Sickly and stinking of alcohol, I ask my girlfriend to marry me. This is not, perhaps, my finest moment.
For reasons I may never understand, she says yes.
So, my friend takes my betrothed on a bayou adventure to obtain a marriage license while my other friend and I wait in the hotel room. I drift in and out of something that passes for consciousness, and eventually a marriage license makes its way to the hotel. I, being still sick unto death, remain indoors while the others celebrate in my stead, eating big Louisiana burgers and fried shrimp and whatnot, while I lay in bed and struggle to keep down a glass of water.
I’ve been in New Orleans just over twenty-four hours; this is shaping up to be a hell of a weekend.
Ah, what the heck, I’ll make you wait to hear about the wedding. The wedding that takes place in a place called… PIRATE’S ALLEY, YAAARGH!
