I came prepared for the festivities, proudly wearing my Saints sweatshirt which announced to all who looked upon it that I had actual ties to the holiday and knew a little something about the traditions. I even came prepared with beads of my own; Mr. Zhuang brought with him the baby that he had found from our King Cake and the plastic cup that came with the cake, ready to serve as the Taster for the "Hurricanes" that were being prepared. We had a great time, as I got to friends that I rarely get to see any more and Zhuang continued to serve as said Taster, and the night passed without major incident; all in all, a pretty decent Saturday night.
That being said, I wanted to call up an incident that is the inspiration for the title of this blog, and puts a spin on the usual "Nic Ouzo Frightens Women" story. At one point I was being introduced to a couple of ladies who were friends of one of my classmate, and we began talking. One of them noticed my Saints sweatshirt and asked about it, and I replied, yup, I was born in Baton Rouge and had been a Saints fan all my life, and yup, I was as excited as a pig on payday when they won the Super Bowl. At some point, one of them asked if I played for the Saints, and being a little confused, I said, no, not quite (I mean, I'm built like a linebacker, but one that would sit on the end of the bench). It was at this point I realized that perhaps this girl was a little unhinged and more than a little drunk, but here I was, in a crowded kitchen with little place else to go, I better make the best of the situation.
The conversation continued, but it was clear that some sort of tonal shift had occurred. At one point someone else came by and asked about my sweatshirt, and the woman who asked if I played for them shouted "No he doesn't care for them, he's a traitor!" Now, anyone who knows me realizes I cannot have my fanhood questioned, but they also know I am quite diplomatic, so I sidestep and talk to the person directly and straighten things out. But I am aware that I've entered into some strange zone here with this one girl, who continues to talk to me, oblivious to all awkwardness.
She then tells me that she graduated from the University of Texas--I said, hey, that's great, and you know what, my sister just got accepted there! It's her number one choice, but we'll see about the money that other schools offer. The girl then grabs my shoulder and begins to tell me that hey, I went there with no money, and I'll be paying it off--I'm working and getting only 30,000 a year and living in Manhattan, I CAN DO IT SO CAN SHE! SHE NEEDS TO GO TO UT! She is very insistent on this point, and sure as shit she will not take "no" for an answer. At this point I tell her, hey, I'm pushing for my sister to go to UT, because if she does, I'm going to crash at her place so I can come to South By Southwest, which is only one of the most awesome events to go to if you love music. Back when I was working in radio, I had the opportunity to have my expenses paid for on a trip and get passes to all the shows, but it didn't match up with my schedule, and I've always regretted passing up the opportunity. I was then informed by this girl that she hated this festival--"I can understand going to see a show for a band you know, but to see band you don't even know..." I then mention how I worked at a radio station, and it was my job to listen to new music and she interjected I DON'T UNDERSTAND. THAT'S JUST TERRIBLE! WHY WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT? Needless to say, I kept smiling but not saying much after that.
Well, sucks to be you, lady who works in fashion for only 30,000 a year--I could have introduced you to Mr. Zhuang, who works for a fashion magazine. As it is...no dice.
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