Everybody’s Having Fun

Hot gluing feather boas to a tulle bustle is not what most men in America are doing on a Friday night. Most men in America could not, turned loose in a fabric store with five minutes and a $10,000 prize, find a bolt of tulle. When my daughter’s last North Dakota recital came and her mother was in New Orleans, I felt uniquely equipped by my Carnival training to carefully trim her tutu to the desired length.

Of course this means its Carnival Time And Everybody’s Having Fun assembling some sort of costume. When I lived in North Dakota people would say, “Oh, Mardi Gras. Always wanted to do that” but I’m not sure they really meant it. There is something in the Lutheran soul not properly equipped for a religious holiday involving men wearing bustles of tulle and boas in a general atmosphere of public drunkeness and lewdity. And I cannot imagine any of them dressed as a cross between Foghorn Leghorn, Super Chicken and Priapus.

Yes, there will be pictures tagged in Facebook I am sure and no I do not care what employment counselors think of that. I want everyone at my employing bank, Moloch. N.A., to know just how much fun they are not having Saturday night, how much fun we’ll be having on Tuesday in a few weeks while they slave over laptops and Policoms. I worked with a fellow for a while who managed an invite to a selective sub-krewe and who’s wife had landed a plum job at the Contemporary Arts Center any number of art majors I know would kill to have. He was British and I loved to kid him about “going native.” I was sure they would never return to the world headquarters of Moloch but they did.

I will never understand that decision.