Do Not Come: “NOLA” Residents Beg Annoying College Students
Every year, flocks of drunken and overly excited college students all race to see who can go to New Orleans the most. Whether it’s a fraternity date function, a toxic girls weekend, or a really far booty call with that guy you met “that one night”, NOLA is sure to be filled with young people who just want to get drunk in a different city. Before your venture beware of: getting flashed, finding your boyfriend of 3 months “actually kind of annoying” now, and the frat boy’s explosion when he is almost handed a miniature penis-shaped cup.
“What is New Orleans? OH, you mean NOLA!” remarked college freshman Ben Lopp. “I didn’t know pledging Alpha Falpha Bappa would mean weekly trips to NOLA, aka: my second home,” Lopp commented after venturing to the city twice and having the time of his life, which he will tell anyone who listens. “It’s great! My fraternity brothers love bringing their sneaky links because they’ll actually acknowledge them for a whole weekend, unlike in Tallahassee when they block their calls! I just love the energy here, it must be something in the water, or those tasty slushie drinks. Am I right?” Lopp took a shot of Malibu, followed by a few minutes to recover. “The NOLA residents love us there because we’re all like family! We discovered this secret, little bar on a corner of Bourbon Street. I even turn my Snap Maps off and bully girls who link the location in their Instagram Stories so it stays underground. We’re like regulars. The bartenders LOVE us.”
The little bar Lopp referred to is a five-star tourist attraction owned by Rick Cuttle, a man roughened by age and, as he stated himself, “non-stop fuckheads who keep coming from colleges all over Dixieland.” Cuttle has said that he has seen things he had hoped would stay in his nightmares. “These horny, alcoholic, monsters need to leave us alone. Sure, they can claim that them coming down here in masses like drunken, migrating geese is, ‘better for the economy’, but that’s not how it works when you don’t tip for shit. You know, my family is a line full of angry and divorced men. I never understood why until I took over the family bar. They’re also alcoholics, but I can’t even look at a bottle of Svedka without getting flashbacks. I was young once too; I was fun and had a light in my eyes, but not since Beta Phi of ‘96.. You know, life is all fun and games until it’s a Thursday night and you have to push a couple off a table mid-cunnilingus.” Cuttle’s interview had to be cut short so he could make it to his Group Therapy session for people who work on Bourbon Street, in which he said he had to be put on a waitlist for a few years before being able to join.
So no, the 6-hour drive is not worth it to get a, “I Got Bourbon Faced on Shit Street” t-shirt or to take pictures of your friends annoying the New Orleans residents. And trust me, Brian, your “unique” caption about NOLA or coming home with beads around your neck waiting for people to ask you where you got them is not even half as cool as you think it is. If you’re reading this article and this sounds like a regular every other weekend for you, then it’s about you. You are the problem.