THE PLAN: Take the Algiers ferry to Canal Street, walk the couple of short blocks to the Aquarium of the Americas, look at cool underwater shit with the kids, eat dinner and take the ferry home. Avoid the French Quarter. Because? Kids. And Mardi Gras.
THE REALITY: Aquarium was fun for, like, half an hour, and then the mommas were thirsty. Walked around Jackson Square but not quite into the gnarley part of the French Quarter and had a couple of beers and mushrooms stuffed with crab. Decided the French Quarter did not sound like such a bad idea after all, and trucked down Bourbon Street with kids in tow. Picked up frozen daquiris along the way. Then stopped at another spot for more beers and boiled crawfish.
That's when we get the phone call from my sister in law, that my dad is "just going to sleep in his car" until we get home, because we have locked him out of the house. While he was at chemo. Rather than leave him in the car, my brother went to dad's house, brought a ladder with him, and after cutting through one of the window screens he managed to get dad in the house.
Meanwhile, as we are enjoying beer and boiled crawfish, a very large tranny with pink hair comes out of the restaurant kitchen and into the dining room. Mr. Lady was carrying a large tray of fried seafood and wearing an elbow length yellow rubber glove on one hand and a surgical glove on the other. I assumed he/she was a dishwasher with the yellow glove, but why just one? Anyway he/she proceeded to scarf down the platter of fried food, with the gloves on.
After the dinner entertainment, we had to walk back to the ferry, which by this time was really, really far away. Uneventful ferry ride with a really spooky looking guy, DUI-less drive home, and now I am going to bed.
Oh, we get home and dad wants to watch a movie. So we watched The Changeling. THANK GOD Carlie fell asleep almost immediately into the movie. More later on my dad's reasoning behind why it is OK for kids to watch rated R movies as long as they are not porn.