Years ago in Kalamazoo, MI, a co-worker/ dear friend and I decided we would trek it out to NOLA for Mardi Gras since I just acquired my mom's car! I made the motel reservations, printed up directions. We were SET!

It was very cold at the time. We each had some money (not enough apparently...), left around 12am, very excited and the dj at the college station I worked at played Concrete Blonde's "Bloodletting" for us. A few hours later, we knew we were out of Michigan but something wasn't right. No cars around. Nothing around, actually. I stopped the car and flipped on the brights. Cows. Cows, everywhere! Kim forgot to tell me she didn't know how to read a map. Thank you, Kim. "Green means TOLL, as in, we PAY... try to stick to the lines that are this or this color, ok? Avoid these, they lead us to cows... follow the highlighter mark..."

Eventually, we made our way out of the waste of land that is Indiana and hours later, we found ourselves running around happily in the sunshine at a state park somewhere in the South. Oh joy! We grabbed some drinks at roadside margarita stands (it was legal to drink and drive, just not be drunk. oh beautiful South!). At one point, we travelled 30 miles and had no recollection of doing so. I blinked and suddenly, we were 30 miles closer into the next town. Bizarre. Winding roads, roadside haunted houses for tourists and crystals to buy. Creepy, creepy South.

New Orleans was a complete effing mess. Despite basic traffic laws, it was a race to get to one's destination. No law was observed that we could tell.

Our motel room ended up being a little more expensive - they jerked us around. The bath towels were hand towels, the bars of soap were miniscule and the bedsheets had bloodstains on them. We asked for our money back but there was 2 pt. type at the bottom of the room "contract" saying that occupants had 10 minutes to check out the room before getting money back. We were probably at 15. We argued with the lazy jerk owners. We called a tv station that was actively covering tourists getting screwed by businesses that day. It was dumb. They were dumb, we were dumb, New Orleans was dumb. We were able to get some money back later and split.

We were on Chef Menteur Highway when the car started to grind, putter, smoke and it seemed like Hell was being summoned upon us, right there in my mom's blue Cavalier. At a gas station, an Indian man helped us. He owned the station. "This is not a place for two white girls to be. You're in the ghetto, the worst part of New Orleans!" Oh. A stop at K-Mart, some advice and we were back on the road to the St. Charles Avenue! In the Quarter, the car still acted up but it wasn't as bad as another car up ahead... their hood was on fire! It was late at this time. We got a room for $180 that night. It was beautiful. Two four-post beds, air conditioning, more towels and fancy room accoutrements than we knew what to do with... that we could steal! The most gorgeous bathroom ever with so many drawers and closets, pretty mint tile, old fixtures and a large bathtub encased in glass. After some jumping around on the beds in joy, we were on our way to big fun! However, we barely had any money left but for gas so we dined on some fries.

We hung out at the Hotel Audubon (R.I.P.). Beautiful people, new wave music and girls dressed like pink martians. The next morning, we attended parades, traded long necklaces of plastic pearls (the hot parade item that year) for Mardi Gras underwear, and had a pretty good time. Some guys called my friend an ugly white chick. We didn't really get along that morning. For some reason, we just hated each other.

No money, no time, time to head back.

I hated Kim. She hated me. I wanted to stop the car, steal her wallet and push her out the door. Watching her sleep creeped/grossed me out. The gurgles emanating from her throat... she was all wrong. Kim insisted we stop at some caverns. They were pretty much closed but she wanted to walk on the trails. OK. "Hmmm... she keeps leading me off the trails, maybe she wants to kill me. In the event she tries, I'll keep this stick handy, hit her, smash her skull with a rock, take her i.d., dump her body in the river and run! She's CRAZY! She's EVIL!" The South does strange things to one's mind.

We both made it back to Kalamazoo minus a violent death. We never really talked like friends after that trip. We just hated each other in a way we couldn't vocalize.

- Melina Paez