Today, one of my friends told me she had her first Jager Bomb (Jagermeister and Red Bull) the other night. This prompted me to tell her, in great detail, one of my favorite New Orleans stories.
In March of 1995, I took my third trip to New Orleans. It was one of our medium sized trips (only thirteen people). Saturday afternoon, some of the women needed naps and outfit changes and some of the men wanted to rest a while before beginning the evening. My brother, my sister-in-law, my sister's brother-in-law and I weren't in the mood for such pleasantries. We told everyone, "We're going in here," and pointed to the nearest bar to where we were standing. "Come find us later."
"In Here" turned out to be the world famous Famous Door. On the stage was a band that was playing the best dance music we had ever heard. Each song was better than the last song. As soon as we walked in the door, we were approached by people who were in there pushing the Jagermeister. If you did a shot, you got stuff. We thought, "What the hell." Heaven knows we didn't quite have enough plastic Hand Grenade glasses, go cups, beads, yada, yada, yada.
We did shots. We got clackers.
We did shots. We got t-shirts.
We did shots. We got hats.
Did I mention it was 4:00 in the afternoon? I didn't mention that?
By the time everyone came back to the Famous Door a few hours later, we were covered in Jagermeister crap and blitzed to our eyeballs. We were best friends with everyone in the bar. My brother was playing the conga drum with the band and someone (it might have been me) had started a conga line to some Jackson 5 song. We were a sight to behold.
(What do you do with Jagermeister souvenirs? Give them to the children when you get home, of course.)
I'll be the first to tell you, Jagermeister is not a tasty shot. It tastes a lot like a bad dose of Vicks 44 cough syrup. However, if you're in the mood to jumpstart your night, Jager Bomb, baby, Jager Bomb.