I hope you all have a nice one, whatever you’re doing. Don’t try to get in touch with a business, agency, or most of your friends today in south Louisiana – and maybe north Louisiana, too. They’re celebrating Mardi Gras, thank you.
I’ve been, but never going again. Why not? Well,
- Nowadays, I go to sleep about the same time I used to go out.
- My dislike of crowds has grown even larger with the years
If I did go, I’d like to go to one of those smaller Cajun towns like Mamou, 
that still celebrate old Cajun traditions, but have a heck of a party, as well. New Orleans is too big, too commercialized, too touristy, too a-lot-of-things for me; if I could just beam in, eat at some of my favorite places, and beam out, that would be ok.
Crowds? For the 4’11” Belle, being in crowds means your nose is level with most other people’s armpits, that’s a very bad things, especially if you’re somewhere that people have been walking around drinking for several days straight! It also means that I can’t see past the people around me; you could be 5 feet from me, and I’d never know it!
In one of my first Mardi Gras visits in the 1970’s, my first husband and I were watching a night parade. When Grand Marshall Cheryl Ladd rode by in a slinky black dress, blowing kisses to the crowd, my “beloved” was mesmerized, and took off to follow the float she was on, leaving me stranded in a sea of strangers, and no visibility about where I was. (That was about when the thought “It Just Might Not Work Out” probably first occurred to me.)
