The Descent Begins

           We we're debating the idea of going to Mardi Gras in a Taco Bell parking lot 15 miles outside of Pittsburgh when it all began. To understand the desperation and seemingly reckless decisions made on this Debaucherous Descent, you must understand how someone ends up in a Taco Bell parking lot deciding whether or not they should drive directly to New Orleans so they can make it there in time for Fat Tuesday. I had graduated college a year earlier with hopes of traveling the world. 8 months later, within 24 hours, I found myself newly single, homeless, having just watched my only car get thrown into a pile of metal by a massive fork lift, and working a job I hated in my former college town. I was due for a drastic change. I moved to Pittsburgh with my friend Mike who gave me a room and a job until I got back on my feet. I had lived at 6 different addresses in 7 months when I decided it was time to hatch a new plan with my college roommate, Dan.
             Dan had graduated 9 months earlier and watched his friends settle for jobs they hated so they could start climbing the corporate ladder towards their hopes of wealth and stable happiness. He, like myself, felt that we were too young to settle for a life full of stability, happiness, and wealth when there were too many opportunities for excitement and danger out there. Dan was due for a drastic change. We had always spoken about making big moves after college, but they always seemed to get swept under the rug when we woke up and realized how drunk we were during most of those conversations. It was the end of 2011 when money was saved, neither of us were being held back by anything, and we both had a certain sense of desperation to either find an adventure, or submit to becoming boring contributing members of society. Somehow we made the unplanned and random decision that we would load all of our belongings we could fit in his Camry, drive to Panama City Beach, Florida, and figure out where to live and work once we got there.
            Dan had come to Pittsburgh and met me as I was celebrating my last night in Pennsylvania. He found me sitting at Sonny's Bar looking right at home as a 50 year old blonde I had been talking to belted out every word to "I Love Rock N' Roll" about 5 inches from my face.  The next day we managed to drive an entire 15 miles before we decided it was time to pull over for some fast food and get stoned. I was about half way through smoking a spliff and 4 bites into my second Cheesy Gordita Crunch when we realized that New Orleans was in the midst of Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday was only 4 days away.
           We had planned to visit Baltimore the first night, Washington the next, then onto Raleigh, North Carolina, and finally Atlanta to stay with some friends on our way to Panama City Beach. Within 2 minutes of our realization that we could be in the South, unemployed, and homeless while being only six hours away from one of the biggest parties in North America, the plan was altered. That evening we continued on to Baltimore to meet up with some of my high school friends and check out the nightlife. We went to a place called Power Plant Live, which was set up as a semi-covered mall comprised entirely of bars instead of stores. Around 3 a.m. we made our departure towards D.C. We noticed the Washington Memorial from the high way and decided that that would be a good area for me to walk off my Baltimore-buzz while quoting Forrest Gump before it was my turn to drive.

             I cruised through the night to Raleigh where we stayed with Dan's friend, Zach, in the huge house that the golf course he works for was letting him live in. We left the next day with Bourbon Street in the GPS and nothing but our open minds and the magnetism of Mardi Gras in our hearts. We skipped the stop in Atlanta and arrived to New Orleans' French Quarter at 4 a.m.




"So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains
And we never even know we have the key"- The Eagles