So this past February I went to New Orleans on a girls’ trip with some of my sorority sisters on sort of a break from a (now ended) relationship. The first couple nights we were there we behaved, kinda. The third night we were there we were at a bar on Bourbon Street and somehow came upon a group of army men on leave. Seven of us, seven of them.
At first the weirdest guy in the group started talking to me and handing me beads to throw. They’d bought bags of them to throw off the balcony, with half of it spread out all over the bar inside. Next thing (I think) I knew, another guy had come up and offered me and one of the other girls drinks. Went inside, talked for a little. (The first night gets pretty blurry at this point) Somehow I found myself alone with him – we’ll call him Pilot. He looked like a combination of Patrick swayze (young, 1980s) with tom cruise (in top gun) hair. Like a long-lost brother of The Outsiders.