My Cats Storm New Orleans, Part 2

If you missed part 1, check it out here. Otherwise, here's how the rest of the weekend played out.

Friday was an off day for the Cats, so it was all about drinking, gambling, watching the other games, drinking, and drinking. We did a good job holding down the drinking part, that is for sure. Nothing outlandish in the sense of either Dan or I turning on the wood chipper on Bourbon Street. Instead, it was amazing steadfast, sustained drinking. Started at around 10:30 a.m. with a some bloody mary's at a dive called the Erin Rose (solid joint, check it out if you are ever there). We ended up talking to the bartender (she was on her 8th actual day of work there after being a customer there for three years, so clearly she knew her way around).

Soon after that, we decided to take the plunge and make our way to the casino. We weren't going in with big bankrolls or anything, just enough to get a taste and see if we had some good luck going at the craps tables. No dice. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't pretty either. It was rather surprising to see how high stakes the tables were at 1 in the afternoon. We were hoping to roll easy on some poor man's $5 tables, but they weren't around so we had to roll with the big boys. And no one was rolling well. Of course, this was aided by about 20 minutes of the most classic O'Neill Theory moments ever. For those just tuning in to the blog, my buddy Dan is uncanny in is ability to predict things, only to have them end up the exact opposite. This is so true that years ago I coined it the O'Neill Theory and friends, our fantasy football league and even his wife acknowledge its power. When his daughter gets to speaking age, I'm teaching her about the O'Neill Theory first (unless I unfortunately teach her to curse first). Anyway, Dan was killing me, saying things like, "I can see a run coming of like 5 straight points" or "I've been hitting 9 all day" and the inevitable, "This guy is gonna win me some money I'm tellin ya." Needless to say, no one hit a point for the 30 minutes before we left, Dan never hit that 9 and that 'guy' crapped out in 2 rolls. It was so painful to watch I couldn't stop laughing. Love Dan for that stuff; he never lets me down.

The only other noteworthy thing of that night was drinking even more and then checking out some great live jazz. The drinking was aided by a combination of the open container law in New Orleans so you can just wander aimlessly with a drink and not get in trouble with the 5.0, and then enabled further by the bars who all have a Buy 1 Beer, Get 2 Free deal. So for $4.50, you got three beers. And this wasn't PBR either, this was quality local-brewed Abita IPAs. Trouble, that's all I can say. The jazz was sweet, too. Just an excellent music scene that actually doesn't get as much attention as it should, in my opinion. Up and down the French Quarter are these little divey spots where bands are just killing in, and instead everyone wanders drunkenly into dirty strip clubs and throws shitty beads at 50-year-old women hoping for some nudity. Hey, it's part of the experience, I'm not judging. But the music is where it's at. We spent a good time in this one spot listening to this band (pictured) that was really damn good and when their set was finished we learned they were just the opening act, which was nuts because those dudes should be headlining somewhere.

Saturday was all about gearing up for the big game, UK versus Wake. Pundits were picking Wake in the upset, and after a poor showing in the Thursday game, the UK fans swarmed to New Orleans and painted the area blue, which was awesome. Dan and I initially upgraded to some corner seats in the lower bowl, but then lucked out completely when two Baylor fans said we could sit next to them in the first row right behind the UK band.

Kick. Ass.

The view rocked (pic of Dan at the top gives you a sense of our view). The band was full of doughy band types except for one cute flutist girl who we all jokingly felt bad for since probably every guy in the band has tried to date her and been rejected harshly. Plus, the low seats gave us an excellent view of the UK bench and the celebs in attendance. Some semi-famous rapper named Drake was decked out in UK gear. Actor Steve Zahn was wearing the blue and white (he's shooting the HBO show Treme, but I had no idea he liked UK). And then, of course, was Ashley.

Ashley Judd. The No. 1 UK fan on the planet in terms of celebrity, and she may not be my favorite actress, but she's hot and she loves UK, so I'm sold. Everyone wanted to get a photo with her, but luckily my time to shine came as halftime was ending and she walked right in front of us. She looked and Dan and I, made eye contact, said a nice loud, "Go Cats!" and gave each of us high fives as she passed. Awesome.

Anyway, UK won both games, and considering we made all the plans in about 30 minutes three days before we left for New Orleans, I'd say we did quite well. Stoked we decided to go for it and make the trip happen. Good times.