Grandma Hart Would not Approve

Bubba and I had breakfast at the Dunkin Donuts across the street from the hotel, then shared a cab ride to Harrahs with Will, Rob, & Matt. Our cabbie was quite the comedian. He told us how a woman put a rue (sp?) on him. "She pulled out one of my hairs and two weeks later I was on a plane to see her and I had no idea why." The return cab ride from the casino was not as entertaining unless you consider that Rob and Bubba reclined their seat out flat, then couldn't get it back up. After lunch at Acme Oyster House with Bubba & gang, I excused myself from the casino to do a little family history research. Shortly after the fall of the Alamo, my great great great great grandmother Elizabeth Leary Hart spent some time in New Orleans where she attended St. Patrick's Church on a regular basis. I was able to locate the church at 724 Camp Street and found that the current structure was built around the original wooden frame building in which Rosalie would have attended services in the late 1830s. Since Elizabeth Hart traveled frequently between Mobile, New Orleans, and Texas, and the new cathedral was constructed in 1840, it is likely she visited both the old and new church. Back at Harrah's, high roller Will had apparently lost enough money to earn a comped meal at the most expensive restaurant in the casino for all 20 bachelor party attendees. I ordered one of the cheapest dishes on the Besh Steakhouse menu at $28... excuse me... "Twenty Eight Dollars" as it was printed on the menu. Most of my fellow revelers chose the $48 (Forty Eight Dollars) rib eye which turned out to be the whole section of cow that the rib eye is cut from complete with the bone sticking out the end. Satiated, we returned to the casino where I continued a remarkable winning streak that would pay for my trip with money to spare. Thank you Harrahs Casino. I topped off the night with a return trip to the Old Absynthe House where I enjoyed "my first taste of absynthe" minus the toxic wormwood ingredient that supposedly made Van Gogh cut off his own ear. It tasted a bit like liquid licorice. Somewhere in the vicinity of 2 a.m., three guys showed up at the bar who, coincidentally, were also attending a bachelor party. I didn't get the name of the guy who introduced me to Raj and "Ken tha bashelor" but it was apparent they were all having a good time. Ten years from now, Ken is going to come across a photo of himself, Raj, no-name guy, and wonder "Who's that dork in the baseball cap?"