beads and boobs
The week was punctuated by my PowerBook going on the the fritz again. This time quite terminally. I think Apple sold me a lemon… Nonetheless, a short conversation with the Apple-Careâ„¢ folks and I was promised a shipping box at my door on Monday and a replacement if they can’t get to the bottom of the trouble.
We slept in and had a leisurely morning before heading downtown to Soulard for Mardi Gras. Certain we’d be fucked for parking, I wore comfortable shoes. As luck would have it, we stalked a group of spontaneously vomiting college students staggering down one of the main drags and nabbed their parking spot as they left. Woopie! – only three blocks from the festivities – choice.
The key to Mardi Gras, as with any street festival – is to KNOW people who live there. We know two.. A bear couple we met through the local club and one of my sign vendors both have homes right in the thick of it.
We stick to the top of the neighborhood and stay out of the mobs of tens of thousands of people jammed into the lower section for the parade.
The pattern is simple… Go to party #1, socialize, mooch beer, take a stroll around the block, stop at party #2, go pee, mooch a beer, socialize, stroll around the block and stop by the Bear’s booth at Bastille, buy a beer, socialize…. Rinse… And repeat.
There’s something genuinely reassuring about the human condition to see so many folks from so many different walks of life all out wooping it up and getting their freak on.
Granted there’s more boob flashing going on than a Super Bowl Halftime show, but it’s o.k. – it’s nice to be reminded occasionally of what they look like.
I’d blog about all this but I still have a residual headache from the draft beer and need to chug another gallon of water.