Tuesday, February 16, 2010

My (non-New Orleans) Mardi Gras experience

• Numerous people were wearing Drew Brees, Devery Henderson, Darren Sharper, Marques Colston, Reggie Bush, Jeremy Shockey and Scott Shanle jerseys who were, in fact, not those guys.

• I caught a plush cheetah, easily my best catch of the day. I let a baby boy next to me have it, and he went from seeming disturbed by the cacophony to ecstasy. His mom was grateful. Cute, too.

• While I stood in line to buy a hamburger, a child in a stroller behind me spotted his mom — who had just exited a bar with three mixed drinks — and said in a sweet child voice, "I'm thirsty too!" His mom stopped and thought about it for a second. Then she seemed to realize the obvious solution to her problem: yell, "SHIT!" Much laughter. Mom of the year!

• I kept seeing people I thought I knew in Springfield. Conversely, I kept overlooking people who were actually there and I actually knew.

• Shortly after seeing the Opelousas High School band, I saw an old woman on the corner of my childhood street wearing Devery's jersey. I resisted an urge to ask her if she was a relative. It would have made my day to meet her if she was.

• Predictably, several floats played on the Saints theme, some more subtly than others. One just said, "New Orleans Saints," and everyone riding it was wearing unique numbers. It's like they were trying to fool people who didn't know players' faces. It didn't matter. We all pretended.

• Some guy drove his car with speed and confidence into a choice parking lot — one packed with limos for the king, queen and grand marshal — followed in hot pursuit by the girl guarding the entrance, running and screaming "HEY!" in a high-pitched voice. I wonder how that all worked out.

• There is a genus of woman whose attention I am completely incapable of getting. (Let me finish.) It's hard to explain exactly; it's not fair to say sexy sorority girl, because I've dated and been friends with sexy sorority girls not of this mold. Nor is it fair to say plastic, because some "plastic" lookers are perfectly amiable people who just happen to have perfect bone structures. But there is that strain of aloof, snobby hottie that wouldn't respond to me if her makeup combusted and I was holding a fire extinguisher (and we were stranded alone in the desert).

Damn. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, most of the floats were absolutely packed with this type of girl, and not one of them threw within half a mile of me. Fortunately, everyone else picked up the slack, including the older women. Especially the older women.

• An entire cottage industry has spring up attempting to answer the question, Who Dat? Not to be the English police, but the only appropriate response to this rhetorical question is, "Nobody." Or maybe, "Not the Colts." Or "The Cowboys," if you want to be a poopy-pants about it. Still, as standalone saying, Drew in fact, did Dat. And We Dat too!

• One older guy, noting my repeated attempts at intercepting bags of beads he kept throwing to his buddy, clocked me dead in the eye with one. I'm sure there's a lesson here, or maybe he was just a jerk. Oh, and his friend picked up those beads as well, while I tended to my pseudo-shiner.

• A police officer without a freckle of melanin in his entire body angrily threw a set of gold beads off the hood of his patrol car that a festive black woman placed there for a second. Apparently, "gold beads" is the same thing as "soiled diaper." Thanks, Captain Killjoy!

• Jesus Christ apparently died for Bible-thumping blowhards with bullhorns. Also, our sins.

• "Lombardi Gras" was a very appropriate term for what I enjoyed today. There seemed to be an even happier vibe than usual. And that's saying something.

1 comment:

NOLA Progressive said...

Thanks...that satisfied my necessary pseudo snark/just fun chuckle for the day.