Back when I was in college, I was in the French Quarter one Saturday night after the day's Mardi Gras parades were complete. I think it was 1992.
The Quarter was so crowded that night that it was hard to move. I saw a group of Fish Drill team members in maroon silk jackets. They were absolutely sh**-faced drunk, and one of them was about to puke. They were trying desperately to get him out of that crowd before he started spewing. They failed, and he went projectile. Was not proud to see him in A&M attire. Lucky for me I was not in his line of fire.
AI failed miserably on the silk jackets. It turned the CTs into New Jersey pimps. So here is my homage to that night in NOLA minus those jackets.