So it turns out Sunshine (while not capable of having anything but Mormons) and Simon have adopted two children, named Caroline and William, from a very poor country in Central America.
Simon came to NOLA on Saturday to take his new family to the Zoo, but after speaking with me, we thought taking them to the track would be a real hoot. And since Caroline and William only speak Spanish, they really didn't know what they were missing. Simon said "caballo," and the kids laughed and clapped.
So we arrived sometime before the third race. Simon plopped the kids up on the bar while we did a couple of vodka shots and chased them with some whiskey sours, which, I have to admit, weren't as awful as I thought they'd be. In the interest of keeping the kids excitement to a minimum, Simon got them a couple of daquiris.
For the third race, while she was still awake, Simon let Caroline pick the race for him. He held her up to the betting machine and she pushed a couple of numbers and ordered an exacta. The odds ended up being something like 180-1, but since Simon had only put a couple of bucks in the machine, he wasn't too upset, although he did slap her upside her head. "Parenting," he said. "You have to teach them the value of gambling at a young age."
And sure enough, Caroline's exacta hit and Simon was awash with money. "I think it's time to hit the strip club," Simon said.
We piled the now drunk and happily sleeping kids into the minivan, drove over to Downman Road and went into Visions Men's Club. With Caroline and William sleeping happily on the bar, Simon had fifteen lap dances until William puked up his red daquiri. Poor William! It got all over his LSU hat and a little bit of it got into Caroline's hair. Simon, being the very good parent he is, got a couple of bar napkins and wiped most of the vomit from William's face, after which, he sighed, got his last lap dance, threw the kids in the back of the minivan and drove his drunk ass back to Baton Rouge.