The Big Easy Longhorn: New Orleans & Austin

Well, there's one thing that the Big Easy recovered quickly with after Katrina. Fun. We dropped into town on Wednesday night and hit Bourbon Street quicker than we could snort beignet powder at Cafe Du Monde. Strippers at club entrances, hockers at every street corner, and heavy duty NOLA drinks plastered us to the hotel floor on the very first night.

But let's just skip all that because this is a family friendly blog. Fast forward. The next day we strolled down Decatur Street and back up Bourbon in the day. We did the souvenir shoppin (got Bulldog beads), the casino robbin, and the tourist gawkin. It's been a few years since the hurricane, and even though life has returned via booze and nakedness, memories remain in the form of broke down buildings. I brought the hammer. Unlike the Lakers that night.

We hit Austin on Friday and met up with Mei & Company and Marie & Company. Mei is my girlfriend. Marie and her friends are this random group of girls we met in Vegas last year. After just one day together, our groups got so addicted to each other we emailed each other every week since then. And here we are, our anniversary.

Five fellas, seven chicas. One of the guys is standing left of this photo because it was too Asian for him, but not for Michael, but that's because he went to high school in Hong Kong. Our first night, we hit 6th street HARD, with thousands of tatted Hell's Angels rolling through the streets ready to shank us. But our dry wits and mathematical genius brains convinced them otherwise. Three strikes rule buddy.

On Saturday, we started a marathon of bike stealing, pho tasting, Texas tubing, sushi eating, 80's band listening, gelato eating, and self-destructing. The streets were packed again with the bikers, who left their bikes conveniently in front of our loft so that every moment spent indoors was like banging your head inside a metal bucket. But I jest, mea culpa, they were actually really cool folks. At one point down at the bars, I told my girl that I thought the lesbians we were sitting with were beautiful. And being who she is, Mei turned to them immediately and said, "My boyfriend said you guys are beautiful." At that point, they both blushed, then blushed because they were blushing, and then told her that I was beautiful too.

The highest compliment, yaknow, is when the other team helps you win. But let's move onto another beautiful thing: AUSTIN FOOD. Beyond the amazing 2am bratwurst hot dogs coated with grease, sauerkraut, and grilled onions, we had amazing sushi at Uchi and moist moist moist brisket at Rudy's. And since I'm no food critic, but definitely someone who prides himself in his palate / phototaking combo skills, here are some eye-catchers that tasted as good as they look. Better.

Hot Stone Beef

Unagi for Two

Summertime Spring Rolls

Squid Inked Sushi

Handrolled Happiness

Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday!

We broke out of DC in the early AM of Tuesday, jetting down the 95 and 85 toward Atlanta, where a bowl of stew and a glass of Duvel awaited us at Brickstore in Decatur. Along the way, Erick's flatulence attacked the car , causing an unhealthy amount of cussing at our pudgy pledge bro's inability to control his damn self.



And, as with everything that comes in vapor form, the farts came to an end shortly after getting on the road. Don't get me wrong, the frequent Safeties made it feel like Chinese water torture, but I was thanking the gods of the road our lives could resume with normal breathing. My nose, forever scarred.





Thank them also for GPS and my new Blackcherry. Together, they've trumped faith in the Bible belt, and despite what the waitress at Bill Spoon's BBQ in Charlotte said about faith and how some dude in Florida was able to see through his glass eye because of a revival, I'll take the GPS unit.




Bill Spoon passed away recently, but his 40+ yr old restaurant was inherited by his grandson, who is successfully making this Eastern North Carolina BBQ place a continuance of food loving. Even though we were initially treated with first-time-to-see-an-Oriental stares, the staff quickly warmed up to us as we tag teamed them with pi class charm.

But you know, the Alabama BBQ that came along our way from Atlanta to New Orleans kicked the smoked pork in the pig-tailed pants. Tack on the sweet service of a southern belle who could sell pollution to Atlanta, plus the creepy as Boo Radley exterior of the Brick Pit, the entire experience was Revelational.

So enlightening and paradigm-shifting was the experience that Marion got a paradigm shifter of his own and decided to relearn driving stick and contribute to Asiamericana. We pulled over in a broke down palace of a gas station to train Mooch-Marion, but before we got back on the road, Erick had to put in a liquid deposit. Look at this picture. Can you find Bashful Erick?

It took about seven hours to get from Atlanta to New Orleans, and even though we had a surprise bash at Brickstore, with the Jason, the Janice, the Tina, the Carol, the Julia, and the Hsiao, we knew this latest stop would be a a crowd-pleaser. Yes, I'll take an order of fun and a side of debauchery. To go.

Day One slash Two: Love in DC

This is a story about Erick Lukman. Erick is now a DMD, a full-fledged dentist who graduated in the top 10% of his class. Magna-freakin-cum laude. Beyond this Miami Vice sexy exterior, one that has been hardened by a life in the ghettos of Indonesia, the slides of the city where Raging Waters used to be, and the libraries of UC San Diego, there lies a soft soul. That soul, which is soft as his love handles, was uncovered this past week as he said goodbye to Boston. This was a time when he met Sopicha, who is not a hair product. She was a Thai temptress, a south pole to Erick's north pole, and a damn right cool ass girl. Did I say was? She betta be an is.




Erick and Sopicha, also referred to as "Ay" and thus difficult to differentiate when calling someone else by saying "Ay, come over here", met two weeks ago, just as he graduated from BU. Despite the reality that he would soon be returning to Hell on Earth, also known as Los Angeles (irony strike now), he instantly fell in love with her. And she with he. Or him. Uh, he. Meeting at a club, there was instant love making. In the club. Like the song. They met through their friend Evan, who likes breaking beer bottles and fitting car keys between his knuckles to brawl with tiny people. Also known as Asians.




The romance was instant, as I just said. Literally, over the course of the past six days, Erick and Aye fit in a lifetime of a relationship into a microcosm of time.



They rode the famous Duck Tour, they took cliched photos with roses bought from Costco, they took leisurely rides in Erick's now broke down (revised) '96 Honda Civic, they picked Stephen up late from the airport because they were. ahem. preoccupied. Nonetheless, love flourished.



On the last day of this love, or at least the last day of this chapter, because who knows how many chapters there really are in a story of love after all, Erick said farewell to Ay before putting coolant in his car, shedding a tear that made Stephen even more nervous about the ability to make it cross country, and farting at the Lincoln Memorial.

Every hour, on the hour, Erick, Marion, and Stephen talked about our pudgy pledge bro's love for Ay. Every night, and so far there have only been two, we've gone to sleep listening to the gentle sobs of our best friend. Every morning, we've watched him eat a buffet for breakfast. I think that's the only time he wasn't thinking of Aye. Food = Love #1. Ay = Love #2. Here's an interesting fact. Erick has tear ducts on his back. ugh...

And here we are, at the end of our DC rest stop, about to head down to Atlanta, meet up with some foos fo' dinna, and hopefully watch the Lakers make up for last night's debacle. By the way, this photo is from a bar called Martin's Tavern. It is said spies met here in WWII, and presidents visited here to escape Watergate, and pledge bros hung out here on a stop through their Asiamericana roadtrip.

Here are some photos from the Vietnam War Memorial:

A moment.

Erick's reflection screws up a perfectly good thug pose.

1959.

Prologue: Farewell Bostonia

I've made an important decision that will likely affect the rest of my life. It is one that will influence my lifestyle, potentially my income, and definitely people's perception of my professionalism. It is a choice that not too many people make these days, but is inevitable in the minds of anyone capable of making such a decision.

Especially if he's Asian. On Friday evening at Logan Airport, I decided to halt shaving for the duration of this roadtrip. It will grow unevenly. It will grow with sweat and dirt. It will grow at the risk of looking like Garrett. Hardly. Dude.

On Friday evening, Lukman and his girlfriend Ai picked me up curbside and took me to a memorable restaurant that reminded me of a famous movie. We were worried it would be too late to eat, but fortunately, this establishment was open til 12am. Wading through the gangs and thick Bostonian accents in the foyer, we made our way to our seats in my very first Applebee's.

It was exactly like Ricky Bobby loved it. Too bad I ain't Ricky.

Fast forward. Because I don't ever want to eat at Applebee's ever again. Unless I am consumed by invisible flames and enjoy running around in underwear. Well, the latter happens pretty frequently so maybe I will eat there again.

On Saturday, as Lukman put in overtime with his Thai Temptress, Big Hsu spent the day gathering wood and food for a house party in the ghettos of Roxbury (the East Atlanta of Boston). Sausages, sausages, sausages, and chicken were on the menu this evening, and as expected, the toilet was backed up by morning.

We all said our farewells, our see ya laters, our pats on the back as some went to start up their own practices, others went on to periodontic school, and others, well others pretended to be dentists that evening. How does one do so? Easy. Look at someone's teeth and just casually but critically shake your head. Tsk tsk tsk.

The night blew by as quick as my mass updates. And even though Marion (our third pioneer on the Asiamericana Roadtrip) was delayed in DC and couldn't join us til the next day, Lukman and Big Hsu handled business like the Celtics on the Lakers. Ooohhhhhhh....

(I write this from a Four Points Sheraton outside DC, watching Game 2 while my Honda Civicmates yell at the TV)

This morning, we embarked on our roadtrip, hung over and teary-eyed from all the adioses. Lukman loaded up the trunk, poured in the coolant, and took one last fart in Boston before putting the '97 Civic in 1st gear and clunking off into the sunset. Meanwhile, I sat shotty thinking to myself, this was a stupid ass idea.

Before we knew it though, we were already in New York, sayin holla to one of our college buddies and grubbin on some Chinese buns. The food kind. I already got the other kind. Afterward, Marion, always the positive player, pointed to the car and said, "Look! Our car's gettin' towed!"

...

And that's as far as we got.

...

Good thing. Because gas in New Jersey can buy me a whole meal at Chick Fil A.