7/30 - The luck of the Irish runs dry in New Orleans

Holy fucking shit, yesterday was our most bat-shit crazy day so far on this tour. Was it good? Was it bad? I don't even—I can't describe—just read about this shit. We stayed up extremely late in Hattiesburg, chilling out with our new friends Rob and Eli. However we were up and out relatively early in the morning, because our plan from the beginning was to spend as much time as possible enjoying the culture of New Orleans. Joe, Karl, Dave and I rose early to find our dear Irish lad Seamus (Sean) sleeping at the foot of Rob's bed. That shit was hilarious. All of us were well and rip roaring, psyched to go to NOLA, but unfortunately Seamus wasn't feeling so hot. Because we partied a little bit the night before, we assumed it was just some residual effects that would wear off before long.

That sneaky leprechaun is fast asleep in another man's bed.

After a glass of water, we piled into the tourmobile to tackle the quick drive into New Orleans. It ended up being 2 hours, and we left early enough that the traffic wasn't an issue. We got to the venue in the early afternoon, and ended up with all of the afternoon and evening to enjoy the town. None of us had eaten anything substantial so far that day, so all of us were ravenous. The mission: CAJUN FOOD! But the car was parked in the perfect place relative to the venue, so we definitely weren't going to be driving anywhere. We began walking toward Bourbon Street in hopes of finding gumbo and po' boys. It was absolutely sweltering outside and us northboys were rapidly wilting without food in the hot southern sun. It ended up being a total of about 2.4 miles before we hit the main strip. We were hard pressed to find a place with po boys for under $10. ($10 is absolutely an absolutely outlandish price for touring musicians to pay for a single meal, but New Orleans cajun food is worth it tenfold). We ended up happening upon Café Beignet, a sick little joint tucked away on Bourbon Street. Best of all, it wasn't as pricy as the rest of the restuarants There, we ordered shrimp and catfish poboys, gumbos, and of course, authentic beignets. Needless to say, this food was absolutely AMAZING. There was a trio of awesome old dudes playing classic dixieland and jazz tunes, and great outdoor seating with fans blowing on us. Absolutely immaculate.

Dave repaired his sandals with a bandana. 

a monumental occasion in Autolatry's culinary history

"The Three Titscrubbers"

Holy christ this is the best Beignet ever.

But it wasn't all a walk in the park though, our boy Seamus was definitely not feeling to hot. So much so that he couldn't stomach any food. We were a bit concerned at that point. After we ate, we elected that we should go back the the neighboring bar, Siberia, (where the concert was originally booked), and just hang there while Sean could sit down, relax, and just chill. That gave us a good opportunity to charge phones and blog. At this point, Seamus was holding back the puke, and was NOT a happy camper. Dave volunteered to walk straight back to the bar with Sean. Karl, Joe, and I took our time on the way back, going in and out of voodoo shops and record stores. When we got to the bar, Sean was nearly at rock bottom. Feeling absolutely shitty. We determined that it was no ordinary hangover, it had to be some stomach ailment. We all felt horrible for him, and really did our best to keep the situation under control and create a solution. We made a trip to the pharmacy to get some medicine and supplies. However the only thing that didn't result in puke was sleep. It turns out that the show's promoter never even showed up, and both bands we were lined up to play with cancelled. To top it off, the venue had a bluegrass concert that was going on for two hours (8PM-10PM). We found out that an awesome band called The Foot, a unique sounding death metal band was slaped on the bill

We elected after great deliberation that the best course of action to make in this massive fuck-fest was to play as a four piece, without bass. As much as we didn't want to portray ourselves without bass, it was a Monday night, and we could probably sell a few CDs and release some pent up energy on stage. The performance went well despite the low end and we sold some merch wholesale to Chris from "The Foot" who owns the oldest record store in New Orleans! The Foot kicked ass before we went on with their unique take on grind, sludge, and death.

After the show we really needed a place to stay, as our bassist was fully incapacitated and needed a good night's sleep. Fortunately, Chris from The Foot bought a shitload of merch for his record store which allowed to book a hotel for the night so poor Seamus the leprechaun could sleep comfortably in a bed. All in all, this day was fucking insane. We had a great time, and had the shittiest time ever. I don't even know. Fucking goddamn. I don't even know. As hard as it may be to believe, there was even more shit that went down yesterday that I can't even type up right now. You'll just have to ask us about the rest of it at a show sometime. We ended up getting a good night's sleep, some new fans and new friends, and did well financially. As usual, now we're off to the next: Houston!