Red Dress Run (New Orleans, LA)
The Red Dress Run is a run for charity. It is a good cause and an even better time. Below is a personal account of my experience, from last year. If you haven’t attended, you should do so.
Everything I do I do for charity…
8:45 – Cellular phone alarm sounds (My Humps, Black Eyed Peas). I hit snooze and roll over.
8:55 – Personal Time…
9:11 – Brush teeth, apply deodorant, apply copious amounts of baby powder.
9:14 – Perform 50 pushups, to fluff, then put on dress. Walk across to wake my buddy, Bill Brasky. Bill is a bad morning person. I try to wake him. He pushes my arm away and tells me he will murder my family.
9:19 – Bill meets me in kitchen. We enjoy breakfast (banana and beer) in silence. He heads back to his bathroom to shower and change.
9:29 – Fill bag with ice and beer, bring it to car. For legal purposes, it was non-alcoholic beer we drank on our hour drive to New Orleans.
9:31 – Bill locks the front door, opens and sits driver side of my vehicle. I take a sip of O’Doul’s and we depart.
9:40 – Stop to get gas before getting on interstate. Exit vehicle in a tight little red number with a ribbon and bow in my hair. Adjust cleavage while holding gas pump and ask guy next to the adjacent vehicle what he think about LSU’s non-conference schedule this year, just to fuck with him.
9:55 – Finish first O’Doul’s, exchange for another, all while maintaining appropriate highway speed and lane integrity.
9:59 – Play that Sam Smith song, “Like I can” for a third time in a row, because it is a jam. Ignore the fact that he is singing about guys.
10:07- Finish second O’Doul’s.
10:21 – Bill inadvertently elbows me in the neck because he is a big guy and attempting to maneuver into his dress in the passenger side seat. I don’t spill my beer, because I switched it to my left, window side hand, anticipating his swinging limbs.
10:29 – Finish third O’Doul’s.
10:37 – Exit the interstate. Cruise through downtown New Orleans. Park next to Marriot hotel, where two lady friends of ours are staying. Sign says $30. We haggle to $25, and we feel better about ourselves.
10: 50 – Bill and I arrive at Tino’s Bar, where we meet four lady friends. They are attractive. I’m in the friend zone with all of them.
10:52 – I order first round of drinks for myself and Bill – two vodka and waters. Bill is not a mooch like me–for he takes pride in being self-reliant–but he is currently throwing jabs-to-haymaker combos at the ATM machine in the corner of the bar that just ate his money.
11:00 – Our friends we met at Tino’s were with about 30 other red dress participants. We did not know most, but they all were kind individuals looking to get fucked up. “Picture time,” someone yelled and we all huddled into the corner of the bar. The bartender stood atop the bar top counter and readied a camera. I took the opportunity, amidst pictorial anticipatory silence to insert my humor: “Man, I hope I lose my virginity tonight!” Received a couple genuine laughs. Also received a couple malign stares from guys with girlfriends who didn’t recognize the sarcasm. All part of it.
11:07 – Bill orders two more vodka and waters. We are about to make a fifteen minute walk deeper into New Orleans, we need fuel.
11:15 – First honk of the day. Our group of about 20 straggles the sidewalk and too large a portion of the road. Bill and I are involved in a game of tag where you have to punch the other very hard for them to become “it.” The honk was directed towards our friend Allison, who has above average breasts.
11:20 – We stop at a hotel – several people have made it known they need to urinate. Bill and I are the only ones with an ample enough pairing of nuts to piss on the street. We wait in the lobby. I owe my friend Jezebel a drink because she is holding my wallet and phone in her red fanny pack. She tells me she wants a double Tito’s (vodka) and water. I walk to the bar and order well vodka (rubbing alcohol) and water, single; I save 7 dollars. She doesn’t know.
11:31 – We arrive at Barcadia, a real cool spot in Nola that is a bar equipped with old school arcade games, hence the name, BARcadia. Bill and I immediately proceed to the back of the bar to the skeeball machine. I am a skilled player and coax Bill into playing a heads up match for the next round of drinks; because we are Americans. I win handily.
11:35 – Grab Allison’s hooters. I’m in the friend zone but she lets me do stuff like that. It’s a silver lining.
11:49 – Deflated, I walk to the bar. Bill tied me in skeeball. I considered it a loss. I order a round of beers. I make a quick tally of what Bill and I have consumed thus far: 3 “O’Doul’s”, 4 vodka and waters, 1 Michelob ultra. We acknowledge that our collective efforts thus far, still prior to noon, are impressive, but we may need to tap the brakes a bit. We are fucked up. I walk back to the skeeball area where Bill is playing wack-a-mole with Allison’s chest.
12:35 – The group decides to leave and head to Bourbon Street. I am drunk so I follow without question.
12:44 – We enter Bourbon Street. Immediately I feel dirtier. I take first half of adderal (I’m prescribed), because Bourbon is packed. Tits are everywhere, and someone might try and steal my wallet. I need to focus.
12:55 – Myself, Bill, Allison, Jezebel, and Gemma arrive at The Beach. Amidst the clutter and health hazard that is Bourbon Street, we were separated from the original group. The Beach is a nice, large scale bar. Today, however, it is packed, to the point where a foul scent of taint and a collective body odor permeates the bar. I am sweating profusely because of the congestion, New Orleans humidity, and the adderal. I wipe the perspiration from lower back on some unsuspecting bar goers and then head to the bathroom.
1:05 – Takes me ten minutes to get to the bathroom, because it is too crowded. I wait another ten for a stall to open up because I have stage fright when in close proximity to other males. That’s normal.
1:19 – Bill and I stand clustered amongst a few other thousand strangers. It’s miserable. We tell our women we want to leave. They acquiesce, because they know we find no shame in pouting or throwing a tantrum.
1:29 – Walking to JAX: real cool bar near Jackson Square in New Orleans. I phone my ex-girlfriend for the first time of the day. Two rings, voicemail. That stung.
1:34 – Wait in line in front of JAX. A sister of another ex-lady approaches and says hello to Allison, who stands to my near left. I say hello. She looks like she wants to hurt me. I walk away, because she scares me.
1:48 – Now upstairs at JAX. Order another vodka and water for Bill and myself. I’m close to getting shitty. Bill is shitty. We toast when the drinks are made ready and consume about half. Now I’m shitty.
1:57 – I stand in corner of bar as Bill and my other friends dance. Text ex lady, since I assume she missed call earlier. I hit her with a “sup” …
1:58 – Nothing back from the ex. I assume I was too vague in my previous text. I correct and text again, “what’s up?*”
2:06 – Super hot chick I have a thing for shows up. I get nervous. I’m not drunk enough; go slug a shot of fireball by myself. Walk away from the bar, towards her, confident until she turns to face me and I see she is wearing nothing more than a red laced bra. I make a hard 90 degree veer and head towards corner of bar. Crush remainder of my drink.
2:18 – Very nice, attractive lady a best pal of mine is talking to arrives at JAX. I talk to her so other attractive girls see me talking to one of their kind. It’s a strategic posturing move. I assume I gain one to two points on the universal “1-10 will-I-bang-scale.”
2:30 – Finally gain enough confidence, look for attractive girl in red lace bra previously mentioned. I want to talk/make-out with her. See her across the bar. Her and a friend are dancing with Bill. Fuck.
2:42 – Bill is super shitty, having a great time. I text ex-girlfriend for third time, “Sup, where you at?”
2:44 – Check phone, no new messages.
2:50 – Bill approaches, with hot lady in red bra and her friend underneath left and right arm. He balances himself. He removes right arm from shoulder of red bra lady, grabs his phone from his pocket, tosses to me, winks, walks away with two girls. I watch as they leave the bar.
2:51 – Crush remaining three quarters of my vodka and water. I am a binge drinker, and I accept it.
3:15 – After explaining the “boop” game (intricate experience where you touch random girls on the nose and say “boop”) to my buddies lady friend, I scan bar for Bill. I forget how drunk I am and realize he left and I have his phone.
3:25 – Buddies’ lady needs to leave the bar to head home. I explain to her that I lost Bill Brasky, and that I have his phone. She knows hot chick in red bra. We leave bar. She phones red bra from her phone, since my phone is dead and I’m irresponsible. I talk to hot girl, explain situation, tell her to ask Bill the pass code for his phone so I can use it to call our friends who have my car keys – I need to retrieve phone charger and travel bag from my car. She responds, in vehemence, with, “Fuck Bill. Making out with my friend right in front of me right after he told me he thought I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Fuck your friend!” … Experienced a lot of blood flow listening to her passion. She hung up the phone.
3:27 – Phone back again, this time I’m met with muffling and sounds of hot lady in bra forcing the phone upon Bill. Bill belches. I ask him for his pass code. Long pause, “six nine six nine… buuurppp, ha, sixty nineeeee.” I laugh, in spite of myself, and again ask him for the pass code. “Aloha Mora,” he says, the spell used to open things in the world of Harry Potter. I realize my efforts will prove futile. I hang up. I walk with buddies’ lady to her car. She says she will drop me off at the hotel where my friends are staying. We smoke a blunt as we walk, because it’s the red dress run, and it’s for charity.
3:36 – The marijuana is good. We pass the medicine to and fro. Bill’s phone rings. It is Jezebel. I luck out and am able to answer without having his pass code. Jezebel will meet me at the Marriot Hotel.
3:40 – Depart and bid adieu to my buddies’ lady. Promise to pay her back for the weed. Laugh under breath as I turn and walk away.
3:55 – Arrive at Hotel, meet Jezebel in lobby. Walk to my car and retrieve travel bag from within. Urinate on cement next to car. Write my name, in perfect cursive.
4:05 – Arrive at room on 10th floor. Plan on charging phone, fixing a drink, then changing into real, non-Red Dress apparel. Once at door, Jezebel realizes she has no room key. We sit down in hallway. She texts Allison, tells her to meet us at room. I plug in my phone in conveniently located hallway outlet. Lay on floor, close my eyes.
7:15 – Awoken by member of hotel housekeeping staff. Adorable old Spanish lady. “Room,” she points to our door. “Room you need get into?” I wipe crust from my eyes. “Si. Si. Room,” I point at the door. “Can you, open? Abierto?” She nods her head, opens door with universal card key. “Gracias.”
7:30 – Finish $9 beer that will be put on the girl’s hotel tab. Freshen up, change clothes, brush teeth. Pop second adderal, because my attention deficit disorder is out of control. I curtail it with the proper drug. Jezebel is asleep on a bed, drooling. I quietly exit hotel room.
7:45 – Head towards Red Eye Bar. Special place. Allison and Vanessa are at Red Eye.
7:55 – I stop at convenient pizza place a block before the bar. Order a nice slice of pepperoni. Nice looking chick I’ve minimally texted with is inside restaurant as well, mid make out with a decent looking cat. She told me fifteen minutes prior she was back at her hotel room. All part of it.
8:04 – Finish pizza. Head for door, knock over oregano jar on that chick’s table as I walk by. Take that.
8:15 – Meet Allison and Vanessa. They are with several members of original RDR crew from the morning. The crew is upset I changed from my dress. They force me to take two shots of fireball, to show their displeasure.
8:18 – Phone ex. Four rings, voicemail – progress.
8:45 – Finish vodka water. I feel hydrated. Vanessa wants to leave. She is a frail school teacher. She is adorable. Allison and I walk her to the hotel. I receive a text from a best buddy who is in town for the weekend. He will meet Vanessa and myself at Barcadia in thirty minutes.
9:05 – Starts raining. I enjoy it. Vanessa’s top becomes moist. So do my pants. We walk in the rain.
9:07 – Text my ex: “How bout this weather?” … Nothing. I assume she is inside and hasn’t yet noticed.
9:16 – Enter Barcadia. My buddy is perched by the bar with two of his pals. He is wealthy, I tell him to buy me a drink. He hands me a vodka and water already made, because we are great friends.
9:25 – Hustle my buddy, ask him what that game is where you toss the little bowling balls up a ramp and into corresponding circles (skeeball)? He explains to me the game. I tell him it would be fun to play heads up for next round of drinks.
9:31 – My buddy returns from bar with round of drinks. Skeeball score of 490 – 280 illuminates our area.
9:44 – Pocket vibrates. It is Bill’s phone. I answer. Bill is on the other line. He was separated from red bra lady and her friend. I give him our location.
10:05 – I ask a nice looking chick with a good dick-sucking countenance if she wants to play me in Mortal Kombat. She walks away. I rationalize that she most likely witnessed me playing skeeball earlier and assumes I’m an arcade shark.
10:19 – Bill arrives. To best of his ability, retells the events of his day and what transpired. Apparently he made out with red bra chick’s friend and red bra didn’t like it, hence, their separation. We laugh. I have great friends.
10:31 – Group collectively takes a shot, decides it most prudent to quit prolonging the inevitable, head to Penthouse Strip Club.
11:01 – Arrive at strip club. Tell my wealthy friend I don’t have any cash on me. He pays my cover.
11:19 – Adderal has me locked in and I feel good. Naked women and surrounded by friends. I offer to buy a round. Order 6 mixed drinks. Strip club bartender asks me for $98. Instinctively open Bank of America app on my phone and make sure I’m covered.
11:31 – Text my ex. “Sup?”
11:31 – “What’s up?**”
11:34 – Check phone. No new messages.
11:41 – Bill leaves our table, apparently smitten by a well put together stripper/dancer. She leads him upstairs.
12:15 – I am sitting with Allison at our table. My buddy is sitting by the stage with his two teammates. I feel a tap on my right shoulder. I turn to look, the lighting is dim, and I see a grizzled older woman bearing a perplexed demeanor. I ask her if everything is okay. She responds in a voice deeper than my dad’s, and asks if Allison is my girlfriend or wife? I realize she is a man. Internally, I laugh, and then tell her that Allison is in fact just a friend, and that he/she should go talk to her.
12:17 – Older woman (with male appendage), tells Allison she wants to make love to her. Allison runs to bathroom in tears. I tell the woman Allison is shy, and it was nothing she did.
12:44 – Go sit near the stage by my buddy. He hands me 50 ones so I can partake in the festivities. A lovely stripper saunters our way. She contorts her body and puts her muff in my buddies face. I slip away from the stage and head to the bar. I buy a drink and a shot for myself. I pay in ones.
1:03 – Allison and I exit the strip club. We make a short walk to Krystal’s, a delectable burger joint just a few blocks away. Combined we order 25,000 calories and several thousand grams of saturated fat.
1:29 – Re-enter Penthouse. Find my buddies and join them at our previous table.
1:31 – Stripper approaches me, apparently taking a personal interest in me over my friends. I smile, confident. The stripper tells me I have mustard on my face. She ruffles my hair and walks away.
1:44 – Bill re-appears. He is dejected, and his shoulders are shrugged. “She got me,” he says… Again, “She got me.” I inquire as to his damages. He reports total losses reaching $600, resulting in six subsequent private dances with no extra-curricular activity (first, second, or third base). Bill was hustled, and he knew it.
1:45 – Text my ex, “Penthouse? Titties good.”
1:48 – My phone vibrates. The ex replies, “No.” I smile. Playing hard to get. She’s a rascal.
2:01 – Bill is still visibly upset. He wants to leave. He is now sober. My other pals are occupied with strippers. We decide to say bye and split.
2:14 – Arrive at my car. I piss on the passenger side door. I write my name, in Morse Code.
2:21 – Exit New Orleans, approaching interstate heading north.
2:22 – Play that Sam Smith jam, “Like I Can.”
2:28 – Close my eyes. Fall asleep, smiling – can’t wait to text my ex in the morning.