The night was a blast, meeting authors who were drunk off their noggin’, watching the dancers stand around looking bored, except cute little Axel. Axel was flown in from Houston to dance for us. Well, move around for us. He is a nursing student and did not reveal his manhood to the seething mass of drunken women and a few tipsy men.
Friday night Kris and I stopped by because she wanted to drop off some wacky Aussie cigarettes (I think clove) for the two bartenders from the night before, Brandon and Jimmy. We were totally in love with both from the first night where we formed that bartender/client bond, sort of like Cheers but with more nakedness from the employees. And really, when you’re in a bar, you have to have a drink. It was super happy hour, which meant cocktails were $1.50. Seriously? You’d be wasting your money NOT to have one or two. And boy Brandon makes ‘em strong. Ahem.
Lori's son and Brandon
Saturday was the night of the big gay bar crawl. They changed the order and we ended up in the straight part of Bourbon street which meant chicks shaking their booty in the doorways, vomit on the street and general mayhem, including a bar that knew we were coming but had no clue what that meant. Imagine 7-11 with a bunch of slurpee machines filled with alcoholic beverages.
After standing around getting frustrated, Kris, Kassa, Chris and I said screw this mess, and headed back to Lafitte’s. We walked into exclamations of joy from Jimmy and thus it started night two. There was a Canadian there celebrating her girlfriend’s birthday, there was a straight soldier there with a female co-worker who somehow knew why we were all in New Orleans and we talked a bit about our take on DATD and how authors were using it and the fact that in Canada we never had that silly rule and I believe I was totally trashed by then but I did get a compliment on my boobs. Only in a gay bar, truly.
There were more dancers, well two and after I poutingly mentioned that only the guys seemed to be getting bar action I got a bit more than we bargained for. But he was just adorable and totally over 21 (by two weeks) so Kassa didn’t have to feel dirty. His name was Scott and he was an adorable blond twink who is an engineering student with two jobs and no time for a boyfriend. Poor baby. He hung around us quite a bit. Maybe it was just nice to know that we wouldn’t be trying to take him home at the end of the night. Although I did want to slip him in my pocket and keep him just to pet on occasion.
So was there a downside to Lafitte. Hmmm. Well, the bathroom perhaps. There are no locks on the bathroom door, I assume to discourage bathroom hijinx. So there was that paranoia that someone would burst in on you with your pants around your ankles. Simple solution, take someone with you to guard the door, boy or girl. Thanks Angel. :) Maybe the drinks were a bit strong, no, wait, that’s not a downside.
Some of the crew on the bar crawl we were in touch with via text/Twitter got a very rude reaction from some gay guys when a bunch of women showed up. We never got that at Lafitte. Maybe some were annoyed there were girls, but on the whole everyone just ignored us or were downright friendly (an overarching theme of everyone you meet in New Orleans).
So I’d say if I was in New Orleans much longer I would have to have a liver transplant. Umm, yeah, Sunday morning was rough, in a very big way. But it’s amazing how much you get to know about people, the dancers, the bartenders, total strangers, each other, ;-) Even when they don’t think they are revealing anything.
You can check out Lafitte in Exile’s Facebook page and like them there. They don’t have a Twitter feed. This song, probably sums up our experience at the friendliest gay bar in New Orleans and hanging out with the girls and Jimmy and the boys was one of the high lights of my trip.
Tam’s blog | Twitter