by Dan Gibson
From May's issue of GQ:
I was down there for Mardi Gras; Cage was probably down there to buy human skulls. I arrived early for my dinner at Stella! (an excellent restaurant whose only crime against taste is that exclamation point), so I decided to wait for my friends at the fine bar. There were four stools, three of them occupied: by a fortyish couple and a man in a Mardi Gras mask who was buying them flamboyant beverages. The man sounded an awful lot like Milton from Drive Angry 3D. He wore rings the size of iguana heads. I took a seat at the bar, and when I looked over again, I saw Cage, unmasked.
The woman was showing Cage cell-phone pics of the couple's adorable Latino-American kids. They must have been cute, because it drove him to melodramatic heights. "Now, that's AMERICA!" he declared, pounding the bar. More drinks!
He wanted to be friends forever. "Gimme your card. I want your card!" said Cage to the husband. The guy didn't have a card to give.
"How do I get in contact with you?" Cage nearly screamed. "GIVE ME YOUR DIGITS!!!"