New Orleans, a Wedding, and a drunk Cowboy

dAt the risk of this sounding like one of those offshoot discovery channel travelouges, I will tell another tale of travel. This one involves me spending another weekend in the Big Easy. Thats right folks its still there. I'm talking about the city where Tom and I ruthlessly mocked a tribe (or is it a flock) of mimes. Where in one weekend I systematically took five years off of my life (Think Princess Bride life sucking machine only with booze) Yeah Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!
Truth is that we went there to witness a buddies wedding. Now you might be asking yourself, who gets married in New Orleans? I asked the same question. Well our friend actually wanted (read that, his future wife wanted) to get married, and I am not shitting you at a plantation house. I guess people from the south have a strange sense of things. So after a ruinous night on Rue Burbon at Pat O'briens, drinking the oh so dangerous Hurricanes, we proceeded the next ay

Burbon street, now 85 percent sewage free

to the no kidding Gone with the Wind house. No I actually haven't sat through the enitre movie or even a small part of it but I know it involves a plantation house and the civil war. And this was a no shit plantation house. I'm not going to lie and say I understand the choice of local (being that both parties and their entire families are from Texas) but I guess it makes more sense than those idiots that get married while BASE jumping or something. And it was quite sceninc.

frankly my dear I don't give a damn...

It was a military wedding and we were requested to do a sword arch. Thats were everyone gets dressed up in the full dress uniform including the sword and the officers line the way out of the church (or mannor house in this case) and form an arch of swords that the couple after they are married walks under. Its quite tradtional and looks pretty cool when done right. I will put in a generic image of one since I don't have one of us yet.

Then there was the drunken cowboy. This was an uncle of the groom. I guess people from texas think that they are all in some way, cowboys. At the risk of getting off on a rant, (trust me the texas rant is coming just not now) Why is it that some stock broker from the suburbs of houston (think king of the hill) thinks that he can put on a hat, some stupid boots and all of a sudden he is John friggin Wayne. Anyway I am having a very nice conversation with one of the girls in hoop skirts. I guess that I should mention that apparently when you rent a plantation, it comes with some college age girls that dress up in hoop skirts to add to the ambiance. At any rate I'm chatting with Scarlett O'Hara and Cowboy Curtis here rolls up and begins to slur something about the "Purrtyiest thang in Louisianna" and then trips and falls into the hoop skirt. I learned something that day. Well actually two things. One whatever those hoops are made of, they aren't that sturdy (the skirt was trashed and ripped away from the girl) , and two: while in the 1850's women may have worn miles of undergarments such is not the case in a reenactor. Two words Victoria Secret. And there wasn't much that was left a secret if you get my meaning. Never a dull moment in the big easy.