BIG. EASY.

Day 1 of 5 and already this trip is paying emotional dividends.

These two (and I hate to judge, but) jockfrat jarhead high school linebacker wannabe idiots were crawling in a canary-yellow Hummer down Bourbon Street at about two in the afternoon, spilling drunkenly out the windows of their (I'll say it again) canary-yellow Hummer.

Nothing says lookit-how-big-is-my-bird like Big Bird Yellow, I guess. I'm clearly jealous. (You're clearly drunk. Oh, hush. Not much. Not yet.)

I'm walking about 10 yards behind these (again, not to judge, and this time I'm foreshadowing) preened up popcornhaired cheergirlies with spray-on jeans and tans to match, and that particular kind of lip-do where it's both superhigh-gloss shiny and exactly the same color as the rest of the skin on their face. They look like lizards about to shed, but hey, it's all the rage.

So the two guys slow down, completely on cue, to give the famous holla that has been passed down through the male lineage of the species since we first learned how to climb the mighty mastodons: "Hey beautiful, wanna go for a ride?"

The alpha cheergirl looks our rumlogged-musclemassed homonculus friends up & down, apparently totally expecting this, and says with a loud Tsk, "No way am I getting in that Bummer Hummer. "

Her friend chimes in. "Yeah, what a waste of gas. You guys are stupid, you know. "

And up, up! Went their noses.

I would have totally chased those fine, responsible, elegant young ladies down, even if only to shake their hands or whatever, but the restraining order explicitly forbids me from talking to unaccompanied minors.

But really. "Bummer Hummer. " What a excellently supreme lame-ass 3rd grade putdown!