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“creative crisis”, thus becoming his worst enemy for a whole five days until…On Saturday, August 28th, at eleven o’clock in the evening, my cellphone rang, and in response to my “Hello” I heard drunken, incomprehensible muttering. All I could get from that strange monologue was that Eric had been in some bar on Bourbon Street feeling very, very bad and sad. He had quarreled with Sarah and decided to drown his sorrows in some old-fashioned “Blackened Voodoo.” Business as usual.

I envisioned Sabrina’s furious face on seeing her brother arrive home, accompanied by the usual noise he couldn’t do without. And… I had no choice but to rush to the rescue of my degrading friend. I found him in one of the bars on Bourbon Street. I was incredibly lucky because Eric was practically conscious.

Drunk as a skunk, but conscious. Some hippie chick hung Mardi Gras beads around his neck and adorned his left ear with a hot pink artificial flower. Eric struggled to lift his head when I approached him and even managed a feeble smile.

“Life sucks,” he declared, breathing out eyes-burning boozy fumes. I dragged him towards the exit amidst the fitting, mournful sounds of the music playing from the speakers.

All the way to his house, I prayed to God for only two things. First, that he wouldn't puke in my car. Second, that Sabrina would be at work. She worked as a bartender in the French Quarter, and I vaguely remembered her complaints about having twice as much work during tourist rushes. As a last resort, I wished for her to be fast asleep, so we wouldn't have to engage in another endless verbal battle, the end of which was neither seen nor foreseen. This beautiful girl didn’t dislike me. She hated me! But why? Since I couldn’t find an answer to that question, I tried to reciprocate her feelings, but it didn’t work well. In fact, it didn’t work at all. According to her, I was something of a Satan’s aide sent down to earth to poison her brother’s life, and hers too. The problem was doubled by the fact that her brother held a completely opposite view and saw me as his savior.