Showing off at Mardi Gras
We went to Mardi Gras and that was where I saw another side of her. I had always gotten off with her dressing sexy, teasing, and the idea of going where women were showing breasts for beads was hot to me, whether she indulged or not.
The first year we read all the tourist things, and she thought the guys on the balcony would just throw her beads by yelling, “Hey Mister, throw me something”. (it works but that is a parades, not under a balcony on Bourbon). So our first morning there she runs out, waves to some guys with beads, and she’s alongside a couple of college girls who flash for beads. They don’t throw her beads, and she doesn’t flash. She walks back to me, dejecting and says, “I’m not doing that.”
So we wandered around the French Quarter, enjoyed the parades and did what the guidebooks said, and came home. She didn’t flash. Not a single time. And she said she was never going back.
Then two years later we had business near there the day after Fat Tuesday, and I told her to see if she could find a last minute room, which she did.
Somehow along the time in between she had changed her mind. This time, the first few minutes on the street, up comes her top, and beads are thrown. A few minutes later she flashes the guy at the portajohns rather than pay the $2.00. She wears a sheer top with a vest, and then before the weekend is over, she is sitting on a stool on a public street naked from the waist up while a face-painter paints between her breasts with a small brush—and it takes a long time. (We didn’t know about airbrushing at that stage in the game).
And she ends up walking down Bourbon street wearing nothing but an open vest and some paint, (and a mask). Anyone that noticed, she opened the vest.
And that was only the start of fun at Mardi Gras.