We took the ferry to New Orleans. It was foggy as fuck and the water sorta reeked; we could see New Orleans glowing like a party beacon, beckoning with its bars and bands and hotties hanging from balconies in the crunked-out night. The iPhones of the ferry passengers shimmered in the darkness. My dude Big Slim Hazard had gotten arrested in New Orleans for indecent exposure; Mississippi Derek had gotten arrested up in here too; and as we crossed the river to the parties beyond I knew that awesome shit would happen and possibly one day it would be so awesome as to be The Shit. And what’s pretty ironic is that the day after we took the ferry, Brad Pitt also took it, and we saw some pictures in the paper the next day.