Happy Fat Tuesday! It's time to have some fun!
It's the pinnacle of Mardi Gras season today. THE Fat Tuesday of Fat Tuesday. It's time to throw on some beads, put some Advil in your pocket and go out and have a good time. Here in St. Louis my husband Mike and I are swapping email trying to figure out exactly what we want to do. We're in agreement we want to go out. We're pretty sure we want to go to the "adult" parade downtown tonight. We're also pretty sure we can get drinks, at least beer, at that parade. Because that's how St. Louis rolls.
I spent two frightful years living in Utah and was saddened and depressed when I went to my first community event and there wasn't a single beer tent in sight. Ice cream, yes. Beer, no. I've NEVER been to ANY event in St. Louis where there wasn't a half-dozen beer tents. Boat show? Of course! Greek Festival? Duh. Oktoberfest? That's the whole point! True story: I watched the priest from our local parish gamble, red-faced, with money for money with a beer in his hand at the parish picnic. I immediately wanted to convert! The point is St. Louis is a party town and tonight is one of the biggest party nights of the year.
The trouble is, I'm a middle-aged party girl now. My back sort of hurts today. Do I really want to stand on a cold, cement sidewalk, watching a parade on a chilly night? Do I really want to get semi-drunk on a Tuesday? Can I eat a bucketful of crawdads without puking? Maybe we should make a quiet dinner reservation at a nice restaurant and have a single cocktail before the meal and say no butter or sour creme on our baked potatoes. We could wear our nice but comfortable clothes and we wouldn't dance any awkward rumbas on our way in or out. We would wake-up tomorrow headache and stomach-ache free. We would have nothing to repent for on Wednesday.
The thought of that makes me want to cry.
Hell no! I'm going to go out and party all night or at least until 10pm. I'm going to yell for beads until my throat is sore and then I'm going to drink beer to make it feel better. Look out crawdads I'm coming for you and I will dunk you in butter and hot sauce. I will repent tomorrow. And feel sort of crappy. And in the back of my foggy mind I will be looking forward to St. Patrick's Day.
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