You have to understand, when you live in New Orleans the aspects of Mardi Gras that so obsess the out-of-towners are completely lost on us. In my little NOLA world, the pleasures of the old MG are a far cry from the sins the tourists seek. MG for me is simply a time to get a mini vaca, and to have a good excuse to leave work early because I live 3 blocks from the parade and have to get back at least 2 hours before or I get barricaded out or some freak parks in my spot. And the parades started Thursday and run through Tuesday. The downside is I won't be able to actually leave my block during that time period, but I'm stocked up and all the parties are within walking distance.
Work's slow anyway, and spring is coming.
I went to Khaos, Endymnion and Muses last night with my 55-year-old neighbor who's one of my closest friends. In the middle of muses, with teams of roller girls skating by she suddenly turned to me and asked "What's a cameltoe?"
This was not a random question. One of the derby teams calls themselves the Camel Toesteppers, and she had read an article in which the captain said she got the idea for the name when she tried on a pair of gold lame shorts that were too tight. Still, I wish the article had expounded on the meaning so I didn't have to end up giving someone almost twice my age and fairly conservative a lesson in fashion no-nos involving female genitalia.
But I bucked up and did it as nicely as I could. "It's when your pants are too tight so you can see the outline of everything underneath."
"Oh." Pause. "I always thought camels had three toes."