Monday, May 28, 2007
I only got to go for a few hours, but it was one of those days that you live all the dreary winter ones thinking about. The big fish might not have been biting on such a bluebird day, but they were darn sure dancing to the music in Bayou St. John. I met up with some friends and we walked the few blocks down Jeff Davis Ave. to see the festivities.
The Soul Rebels were just starting to blow up a storm on the main stage, the line at the Juan's Flying Burrito/SLICE booth was already deep into the double digits (though my tattooed co-workers took it all in stride, as photographic evidence shows). Beers and burgers procured, we found some shade and listened to the music outside in the grass on a Saturday. If heaven don't feel like that when you get there, you ought to ask for your money back.
Now listening to some band playing rock and roll with an accordian (which rules), we then strolled around the art market (we procured beers both on the way there and on the way back), where one of my friends picked up a clay relief of a catfish at one of the many, many booths. Words cannot describe the absolute coolness that was this catfish. The booth in question had clay reliefs of crawfish, shrimp, pelicans et al, but only one catfish. When we saw it, we knew it must be had, he just pulled the trigger a little quicker. (The pic I took of this awesomeness must have been on the analog camera, because it is nowhere in the digital database.) The mythological importance of such a thing had absolutely nothing to do with the number of beers consumed and the number of UV rays lashing exposed skin, I am sure.
Back to the food, we had to go and bother co-workers some more, and watch as they grilled both quesadillas and pizza slices on a charcoal grill, and make sure they had beer. On the way, we passed the Friends of Laffite Corridor booth, and said hi to some folks we knew in the Faouburg St. John Neighborhood Association. But, with our own nightshift at the burrito stand uptown looming closer, it was time to go.
The 'fun mobile' was, of course, ten minutes behind us -and the coworkers who remained behind made ample note of this fact later- as the Mardi Gras Indians (who I have heard but still not seen) were out in full regalia. I was told many, many times over the last several dozen hours, that I 'missed my amazing photo opportunity.' Well, you miss a lot of things when you have to work a night shift. But at least I got to sit in the grass on a day like Saturday.