A minister (my dad) and a deacon (his best friend) and their young families drive into New Orleans late one night.

“Hey,” says the minister. “I hear there’s a neighborhood here called the French Quarter. We should go there so my daughter can practice the French she’s studying in middle school!”

CUT TO: Four parents and four underage children walking down Bourbon Street at night

“Daddy,” says one of the little boys. “Why are those lady’s legs hanging out the window, and why isn’t she wearing any underpants?”