I’m fairly indifferent about Mardi Gras in general, and lean toward curmudgeonly since it’s pretty much a free-for-all exploit-o-gropefest, but far be it from me to rain on anyone else’s weirdo parade. My second-grade teacher brought back beads for the class one year she went to Mardi Gras, and I’ve hung on to them ever since. I remember wearing them until the clasp broke. I do not want to know how my teacher got them.
I have twenty-odd years of fond memories of Mobile’s Mardi Gras, where you can take small children without being concerned about their being exposed to anything more than the occasional drunken reveller.
And one year of less-than-fond memories of being swept on uncontrollably in a current of bodies on Bourbon street, seeing young women weep while their frat-boy boyfriends exposed them to the crowd.
I try to focus on the good memories.
Honestly it all depends where you stand. I only saw one pair of boobies last weekend and that was in the Quarter, ie where the tourists hang out. In fact it was the first time I’ve seen tits at carnival in my entire life. Everywhere else you have to fight little kids for all the good throws because they get priority (also because they’re sitting on parade ladders).
Those beads are pretty awesome, though. They don’t make them like that anymore.