After five blurry days of Mardi Gras-ing in the Deep South, I have returned with a suitcase full of beads and bruises in strange places. The deal is, every other year, my stepsister, Julie, and I head to our brother and sister-in-law's place in Mississippi to celebrate. And if there is anything my family loves to do together, its drink, eat, laugh and sleep in, which is why I love them so.
I took over 200 photos, most of them blurry or otherwise unpublishable on the advice of my lawyer. However, there are a few choice prints. Here we are on the occasion of our first cocktail, Bloody Marys, at the Carousel Bar. We look so healthy and innocent.
It didn't take long for it to become this:
The floats were huge and amazing though Mary Ann tells me they were much bigger before Katrina came and destroyed a bunch. This Louis Armstrong float was my favorite:
Other than the floats and the booze, it's all about BEADS. It's amazing what people will do and say to get some colored plastic around their drunken necks. Julie was especially good at spotting what she wanted and then begging a bead thrower a block or so until they relented. There is a saying that New Orleans is sinking not because it is a swamp but because of all the beads in everyone's attic; I believe it.
This year in New Orleans, it was unusually cold so there was very little boobie flashing going on. Amazingly, I did not see one bare breast - plenty of 'nippy' jokes though.
Still, there was no shortage of crazy people willing to give in to the moment - in this case - a nearly naked drunken sweaty guy. I'm actually the multi-colored person on the left, fleeing the scene and trying to retrieve my camera, no doubt:
And finally, balcony decor that answers the age-old question: Can one own too many boas?
No. Definitely not.