Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate. When I went down to Mickey Markey Park around 1:00 pm, it was sprinkling. It was that kind of half-rain, where you're not really sure it's worth opening your umbrella or not. I had Jack with me - he chose the moment before entering the festival to perform his magnum opus - the Prime Directive of every dog-walk. He took a giant shit just by the entrance to the park. Fortunately, I have my stash of dog-poo bags, and I picked it up like a good citizen.
There was a band playing onstage, a morose soundman under a dripping canopy. There were food booths, selling mirliton curry, mirliton gumbo, mirliton tamales - you get it. There were booths for New Orleans Rum and for Abita Beer.
We took a tour of the park - several festival-goers admired Jack - and then headed back home, to warmth and coziness.
The rain increased into evening. Now it was seriously pouring down, in sheets. Although it's only a few blocks, we took the car to Vaughan's Lounge for an evening cocktail. One drink into it, the place was suddenly over-run by a group of crazy women in costume.
It just goes to show - you better keep yourself receptive, because you never know what you're going to encounter in this city.