It’s time for my annual Pining for New Orleans at Carnival whine. Tuesday, Feb. 24, is Mardi Gras, which, obviously, makes this the weekend before Mardi Gras, one of the great high points of queer life in NOLA. Humpy guys from out of town pouring into the French Quarter looking for a good time, everybody leading the sleazy high life, madness as thick as Jello flavored with LSD. I miss it more than I miss my hair.
Costuming is a big part of Mardi Gras and I always planned to make something spectacular, but I never got around to it and so would always just wind up pulling bits and pieces together that morning and wandering out of the house into the insanity. I can hear true Carnival fans grinding their teeth at this admission all the way from here, but I always figured a big part of my Mardi Gras celebration involved pulling my pants down, so I never wanted anything that would interfere with that. Most of my “costumes’ were actually pretty disposable, which was a good thing considering how beat up they became. Case in point:
Here we have R Man and me on Mardi Gras morning, I think maybe the last year we lived in New Orleans. R Man looks irresistibly dapper in his Navy uniform, I look like I have fallen into a rag bag. My mother took this picture as I was standing there smiling sweetly and tripping like a million screaming monkeys. Who wouldn’t miss that?