I got back from Nola a few days ago and have quite a few little tidbits that must be preserved in this emo bullshit site.
The first day we got there we went over to Lizzay’s and well, you know how she rolls. Poor Merritt who hasn’t smoked anything in like half a decade catches a very mean contact high. We get in her car and Merritt reaches back and grabs her Club and begins to put it on the steering wheel. I turn to her and say “we probably don’t need to put that on before we drive”. Riding with Merritt while high in New Orleans is probably one of the most scary feelings ever. She’s driving perfectly fine but keeps muttering “shit” under her breath.
She drops me off and I tell her to call me when she gets to her hotel room. I go back to my shitty little room that doesn’t even have a TV, lay in bed and read while waiting for her to call me and tell me she’s okay. She calls and says “toad, i think i made a wrong turn and now all the windows are boarded up. I just asked some guy for directions and he said white women tasted like pork.” I just start laughing and then she starts laughing because as niave as i am, this just sounds too good.
Merritt let me drink in her car on the drive down there and up there. This is in my mind, the same as letting a diabetic shoot up insulin. I’m pretty sure the scene where we’re both singing along to the Hustle & Flow soundtrack will be in the movie of my life. Bumping it on her FM reciever in her 1984 Volvo flying up I-55. Good times.