Laissez les bons temps rouler
Today is Friday. Mardi Gras has been over for three days; and still people I work with keep on asking me: “So, how was your Mardi Gras?” Well, I really don’t know what to answer.
There is two ways to play it and usually I decide on either one. No. 1 sounds somewhat like this: “Dude, it was totally, I mean totally crazy. I passed out like a million times, I made out with like ten chicks, and, dude, Bourbon Street was so, I mean so wild.”
No. 2 is more of a low-key version:
“Yeah, you know I am not really into the parades. You know, in the end all them beads and cups and stuff just seem to be an annual hurrah to the Chinese economy. So I took it easy, browsed the Marigny neighborhood, linked up with the Indians in the Treme, and tried to make it a cultural experience.”
Most of the times, people seem to be happy with these sort of answers, sometimes I do have to stress the fact that blond Texan girls employed at Hustlers or Californian wannabe artists and writers were involved. But usually, people are simply satisfied with “Jap, I enjoyed it.”