The Real World: Back to New Orleans, Episode 07
“The kitchen is where the food is and I want to eat my food.” - Knight
A few days before Super Bowl XLIV, a rumor started going around that the Real World cast may be watching the big game at the Rusty Nail. The Rusty Nail is my home away from home, so when I caught wind of this potentially disastrous development, I predictably freaked out and marched on over to get some answers.
Thankfully, the lovely Cyndi was behind the bar and my friend Scott was in attendance when I stormed into the Nail with an axe to grind. Cyndi assured me that although MTV producers had approached the proprietors about potentially allowing the roommates to stop by on Sunday, the terms of the arrangement were respectfully declined. Having been successfully talked off the ledge, I grabbed a PBR and started to catch my breath when Scott posed what turned out to be a very thought provoking question.
“What if the Real World did spend an evening here? Obviously no one wants them jamming up a Super Bowl party, but would seeing the interior of The Rusty Nail on TV a few months from now be the worst thing in the world?”
The Real World: Back to New Orleans, Episode 02
“Everything is genetics more than it is environmental.” - Jemmye
This may be the last one of these recaps I write because this week’s episode of The Real World may very well be the last time I watch an episode from this season. Hell, this may be the last time I watch The Real World at all. This episode made me sick, and it wasn’t just because the first 15 minutes revolved around Ryan’s fondness for squeezing his roommate’s ears and blow drying his own crotch.
MTV producers have tweaked the tried and true formula they use to manufacture drama on the network’s reality programs by supplementing their already suspect practice of feeding an endless supply of adult beverages to emotional cripples with a conscious attempt to knock a recovering opiate addict clear off the wagon. After what appeared to be the flawless execution of a textbook B&E, Ryan is afflicted with a shoulder injury of unknown origin that inexplicably requires an emergency trip to Touro and a prescription for codeine.
The next day, Ryan has no problem eating a sandwich while piloting an automobile. While I’d be hard pressed to think of a time when I haven’t been eating a sandwich as I made my way from one destination to another, the non-sandwich-holding arm on which I relied to rip the neutral ground U-Turns and pothole avoidance maneuvers necessary to get anywhere in this city was firing on all cylinders. I’m no “Dr. Matt,” but I think Ryan is full of shit.
“Toilets Are Broken - There’s Your New One. Respect.”
The Saint Bar - New Orleans, LA
“Cold Beer, Mixed Drinks, Juke Box, Good Times”
The Saint Bar - New Orleans, LA
