Rainy Day Parade

Today was the Mirliton Festival in the Bywater - In the United States, it may be the only major celebration of a squash on record.

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.

The aqua-wigged lady sitting next to me explained that they were a contingent of the Pussy-Footers, a group focused on empowering women. They had planned to be part of the Mirliton Festival's parade, but they'd been rained out. They crowded raucously up to the bar. With the parade cancelled, the hardliners among them thought they might wait it out to go to the masquerade ball at the Port event venue.

It just goes to show - you better keep yourself receptive, because you never know what you're going to encounter in this city.