Vomit. Urine. Alcohol. Weed.

Thomas Abernathy scrunched his nose as his Armani loafers walked along the uneven pavement and bricks of New Orleans’ French Quarter. He had never had any desire to come to the ‘Big Easy’, but thanks to the insistence of his group of friends, he decided to come along to enjoy Mardi Gras. As his friends often said, “You’re only 26, live a little before you’re an old man”.

It’s not that Thomas didn’t know how or like having a good time, it’s just that his idea of fun was different from his buddies from college. He enjoyed sitting back in his condo overlooking downtown Chicago, sipping on an expensive scotch, and watching the world’s financial markets ebb and flow; always trying to find the right thing and time to buy and sell. Ever counting his increasing net worth.

Thomas sighed as he took a sip of the tall green cup gripped firmly in his left hand. A ‘hand grenade’ the brightly lit neon had advertised it as. To Thomas, it was a sickening sweet assortment of unknown juices and liquors.

“Cheer up, Tommy! Relax! You’ll be back in your dark cave in a few days, stowed away from the world, back to making your millions.” Thomas’ old roommate nudged his ribs.

“Shut up, Ryan.” Thomas took another sip of his drink and cringed.

“Dude. You really need to lighten up. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been any fun. I mean, you’re a great guy, that’s why I asked you to be my best man, but, you know, live a little. You never know when your life could be over.” Ryan shot back, looking his friend up and down with sympathy.

Though Thomas had gone on to become the most traditionally successful of all his friends, it was all of them who held sympathy for their former friend. Yes, he could afford to take frivolous vacations. Yes, he had the finest wardrobe money could buy. Yes, he lived in a gorgeous living space. But it was all without substance. It was if Thomas was playing a game for the highest score without enjoying the game itself.

Meanwhile, Ryan and all of other Thomas’ College and Work Friends all had families or were filling their social media accounts about “finding” themselves in Southeast Asia or getting lost and getting familiarized with random local cultures around the world.

“I mean. I just don’t get it.” Thomas took one more sip, praying the drink would be empty soon. “Thousands of people cramped up against one another, jostling for cheap trinkets made in some unknown factory for pennies. All so they can get hungover, puke on one another, and forget it all by the next morning with a throbbing headache.”

Ryan, exasperated, shot back, “Look, man. It’s not necessarily about the kitschy shit, or the girls bearing their breasts, or getting backout drunk. That’s something you never got. It’s about the experience. New things to see or do. Ways to keep ourselves sane so that we can that existential dread for just another day.”

Thomas laughed. “And I’m the non-fun one.”

Ryan punched his friend in the side, “Finish your drink. I want to buy you a Hurricane next.”

Thomas fake gagged and two friends worked themselves through the throngs of thousands of others on to the next bar Ryan had itinerated.

As Ryan and Thomas squeezed into the next bar, the two friends were lucky enough to find a seat bar counter itself.

Ryan caught the eyes of one of the bartenders and held up 2 fingers. “TWO HURRICANES PLEASE!” he yelled over the deafening din of the crowd around them.

With a nod, the bartender recognized Ryan’s order and stepped off to prepare the drinks.

Meanwhile, Thomas scouted the small building. His eyes floated from left to right. People stood shoulder to shoulder. Some like himself, dressed in suites and ties, others tshirts and shorts. Some almost completely naked. That’s when his eyes settled on somebody. Thomas couldn’t make out why, but it was almost as if his eyes were pulled toward the sight.

Standing near the back of the bar ,by a door he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in, stood a tan brunette. She was a tall girl, probably 5’11 or 5’10 – at least a few inches shorter than Thomas’ own 6foot 2inches. Her face was hidden behind a masquerade mask, coloured purple and adorned with a gold border. Meanwhile, an emerald, green slit sundress draped her shoulder, accentuating a fit body.

Thomas couldn’t take her eyes off her. He continued staring for the next 30 seconds until both their eyes locked. The girl’s eyes matched her dress, a deep green, almost unnatural. A playful smirk crossed her lips and she tilted her head back, signalling Thomas to go her way.

Without a word, Thomas rose from the bar stool and, seemingly, glided over the floor and mass of people to meet this girl and say hello…

Ryan grabbed both the large drinks from the bartender and handed him a $100 bill. “KEEP THE CHANGE!” he shouted. As he turned to hand his friend his drink, Ryan was surprised to find Thomas’ seat had been taken by another patron.

“DID YOU SEE WHERE THE GUY WHO WAS SITTING HERE WENT?” he shouted. This merely earned a headshake form the new body in his friend’s seat.

He scanned the bar, but found no sign of his friend. He shrugged. “Maybe the guy finally decided to have some fun.” He thought to himself and began drinking from both glasses…

As he approached the mysterious girl, Thomas could hear the drone of the crowd and music from the street begin the quiet. He kept his eyes locked on hers as her grin continued to welcome him closer. When he was was within a foot of her, she opened the door by which she stood and stepped inside. The door left open as if to welcome Thomas in.

Thomas stopped just ever-so-briefly and thought about following this girl, but then Ryan’s words echoed in mind. He took a deep breath and spoke to himself.

“Lay say less Bon temps Rooler.” The bastardized creole fell from his lips. As he reached and pulled the door open and followed.

Thomas stepped through the threshold and couldn’t believe his eyes. A, seemingly, never ending staircase descended below. Only lit by torches – it reminded him of something from a cheap Disney ride. With his first step, the door closed behind him. The sounds of revelry complete stopping. Only the sound of a small breeze and soft humming could be heard.

Thomas held his breath as he descended the staircase.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked himself in an attempt to get his body to stop, but it was no use as his feet continued down each stair-step. The air was musty, but not unpleasant to breathe in. It smelled slightly of cinnamon. Finally, after what seemed like minutes of descending the stairs, Thomas was greeted with what looked to be another bar, though empty. He sighed.

“Fucking tourist trip.” He clenched his fist in anger.

“Look.” He spoke aloud to the empty room, “I get that speakeasies are the cool thing nowadays, but this was a stupid way to get a customer.” He began to turn to leave, but stopped as the girl in green seemingly materialized from nowhere.

“Sir. That was not my intention at all.” The girl’s accent dripped like honey, filling Thomas ears and making his head heavy with drowsiness. It was if she was plucked from an antebellum play.

Thomas felt his attitude change unexpectedly. His body loosened. “Oh. Apologies.” Was all he could say.

“I merely found your look interesting and wanted to get to know you better.” The girl motioned to the bar top on the far side of the room.

Thomas, still not in control of his feet, walked slowly over and took a seat. His new host stepped behind the counter and began making drink.

“So….” Thomas struggled for words. Combined with the sudden change in scenary and the drowsiness, his mind scrambled. “Who is my host?” he attempted to emulate the girl’s speech pattern. This earned a laugh.

“Your host is, I. But, more specifically, I am Dorothée Fontenot…”

Thomas remained quite, entranced in Dorothée’s accent

“But you may call me Dory.” She turned her head and smiled.

“Certainly, Dory.”

“Thanks, Thomas.” Dory replied, earning a slight startled from Thomas.

“How did you…?” Thomas’ voice trailed off as he still struggled to think.

“Oh, your raucous friend is quite the talker.” She replied.

Thomas laughed, “Ohhh. Ryan? Yeah. Sometimes that guy doesn’t know just how loud he is.”

Dory turned and smiled silently. She placed a small glass in front of her guest.

Thomas looked at it cautiously.

“A New Orleans original. Sazerac Cocktail.” She hoped to assuage Thomas.

Thomas lifted the glass to his face. In the dim candle-lit room, he could make out a dark liquor with other liquids dancing within. He tilted his head back, but was stop.

“Careful now. That’s a sippin drink. You drink one too many of those too fast and you’ll be face down in a gutter before you know it.” Dory spoke.

Thomas, slightly embarrassed, lowered the glass and raised it in a toast.

Within Dory’s right hand, a near identical drink toasted back.

Thomas thought it was funny as he didn’t recall her having or making a drinking for herself, but he shrugged. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped slowly. He then pulled the glass from his mouth and licked his lips.

“That…is different…” He laughed, earning a laugh in return from his host.

“And that means what, Mr. Abernathy?” Dory spoke Thomas’ last name without him noticing.

“That means it’s good!” He felt his body began to ease.

The two remained in silence for the next few minutes as Thomas took a couple more sips. Finally, he placed his drink down and looked at Dory. “I have so many questions right now.”

Dory smiled and nodded. Her green eyes still hidden behind her mask.

“I’ve earned this bar for generations…” She began. Thomas once again missing the details in her speech. “And each Mardi Gras I always try to find a nice young man to join me for a private event. Somebody who is a virgin…”

“Wait wait. I had a girlfriend in college and uh…” Thomas tried to interrupt Dory.

“Not like that silly. Now, if you don’t mind.” She raised an unseen eyebrow to Thomas who relented the floor to Dory. “…A virgin to the spirit of Mardi Gras. Somebody untouched by the spirit of the season. The debauchery. The joy of their fellow man and woman. The just all out fun!” Dory sipped from her own glass, giving Thomas a chance to reply.

“And what made you pick me out to be your guest this year?” Thomas mirrored Dory with a sip from his own glass.

“Oh, sugar.” Dory’s voice caused Thomas to shiver in satisfaction. “I’ve seen so many men like you come and go. You don’t know how to give up and let the waves take you. You’re always trying to control your fate when your fate was decided the minute you were born…” Dory’s voice began to grow more sinister, yet sultry.

Thomas could feel himself grow lightheaded as Dory continued to speak.

“You need to learn how to have a good time and, ever since Napoleon was around, I’ve made it my goal to do such. To teach you men of the world that good times can be had without you in control. Heck, that it may be better to give the reigns over to somebody always. They’ll take you places you could never dream of…”

Thomas’ eyes grew heavy as Dory leaned closer. Her thick ruby-red lips mere centimeters from his own face. She leaned in and gave him a soft peck. This pushed Thomas from the stool on which he sat.

“Easier than catching crawfish with bacon.” Dory finished her drink and stood on her tip-toes. She glanced over the bar to where Thomas fell over. However, here eyes were met with a pile of the man’s clothes, but caught movement.

“Oh. Now you’re going to experience what Mardi Gras is all about, Mr.Abernathy…”