discofever

I know this entry is long but everything is happening to everyone right now, thats what its like down here, and theres plenty to discuss. Well be back to normal come Ash Wednesday but steam on for now.



I ended Friday night by updating my user profile. It was something to do and I wasnt tired just yet. On most I was deliberately silly but on one I thought for a while. The Into entry. I dont know why but it just felt right for the moment.

Five seconds after I submit the new profile the phone rings. Anna is letting me know that Greta arrived in town intact. Anna did not let me know that Greta was coming. Anna is treasonous and she will one day pay for her sins but this entry isnt about Anna. Its about Greta.

The more Jungian-minded of you would say that the great collective unconscious informed my decision. The more mystics would claim foresight, the kind that we all enjoy from time to time. The cynics would chalk it up to dumb luck, emphasis on the dumb. Greta is a cynic. And Greta is most assuredly a stoic.

And I can make her smile.

My planned afternoon of crashing the floats and testing the beer-holding capacity of my stomach was suddenly null. I had better things to attend to.



The first superkrewe to roll during Mardi Gras is Endymion. The krewe has one major tradition the campout. Grab your rattiest couch or steal your neighbors the night before, carry it out to the neutral ground, that strip of grassy land inbetween the street lanes. Sleep there, or not, stay awake, just stay and mark your territory. Endymion usually rolls in Mid-City but due to heavy construction they relocated to Uptown, the St. Charles route. Where the ground is solid, not swampy, and the atmosphere convivial.

Except that St. Charles has streetcars. And angry, pissed-off, sick of dealing with drunk frat boy drivers. Who will not hesitate to run your drunken couch potato ass over.

I drove around, found a streetcar, and watched the driver play chicken with upholstery. And thought idly about Greta.



The early parade, I cant remember, they had floats and beads and whatever. I couldnt find Greta. The crowds had swelled and ladders were jungle-thick, you would need a machete to find someone in that crowd. Add in the fact that the women in question are all of five feet tall. I went to a party instead.

The trick is simple and well-known. Ascertain the age and inebriation level. You want to find people roughly your own age, the drunker the better. Walk in, look like you belong, and say, Im with X, X being a random name you pulled off of a t-shirt or out of your ass.

Oh, Im with Dan. He here yet?

Nah, he went out to the parades. Beers over there.

Alright. Lemme know when he gets back. Ill be drinkin.

I pulled a beer, overpumped the keg and put a Dilated Peoples CD in the stereo because I dont care if hes a local, Master Ps got no bounce anymore, none, he couldnt get a dance floor moving during an earthquake. Dilated, yall. But that was it. I had better things to attend to.



Biking around a parade route, well, there are wiser things you can do. Running a marathon in a combat zone, maybe. Snorting wasabi. Eventually you give up riding and realize the true purpose of the bike. A tool to widen your personal space. Just lift it over your shoulder and walk. Turn your head, looking, make the bike waggle around. People either scatter or get a facefull of chain grease.

The crew was up at the Gen. Taylor intersection. Joemyron and his large friend whose name I dont recall was running crowd control, people will push their way around small women but two young black dudes? One thick as a bus? Alexis I had never met, she was ready for a titty-flashing good time. Megan was there to catch beads. She was second on her high-school team in rebounds. Anna was hoping for a repeat performance of last year, when Jason Alexander singled her out of the crowd and threw her a mountain of beads. And Greta.

Greta ignored me and later moved behind Joemyron so that I could not see her from my vantage point. I was starting to get a feel for her at this point, this was her third trip to New Orleans, and this I took to be a good sign.

I handed out Toblerone and mocha pastilles, no vanilla shakes, sorry, Joe, and went back to put my bike up. The parade would be rolling in an hour.



Midway through I had few beads but landed the doubloon I wanted. Joe was munching on an apple and mentioning that, you know, a vanilla shake would be mighty good right now. Megan was handing out beads. Everyone was wearing enough plastic to build a Korean car.

I was standing next to Greta. I had been for the past hour. We hadnt said a word to each other in that hour.

There is a trick with cats, you have to know not to approach them. Sit down, get comfortable, and hold your hand out in their direction. Dont point or be threatening, but hold your hand out like youre on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, waiting to be touched by God. And wait. Sometimes it takes a while but the cat will come and sniff your fingers. Wait some more and then pet the cat, lightly, move slow and coo.

I was waiting for Greta to get closer.

She is exceptional at pushing people away, all claws and sharpness. Come on too strong and shell scar you. And every approach possible is an approach too strong. So just stand there, scream and yell for beads and whatever you do, dont stop being there, close to her.

Her glasses were tortoise-shell and librarian-serious. They hid her eyes behind reflected lamplight. She keeps an enigmatic smile on her face but its effect is not very welcoming, there are hints of steel in that slight smile.

But leave that for now heres another float COME ON THROW ME SOME FUCKING BEADS YOU INDOLENT WRETCHES IM A MAN WHO DESERVES THE FUCKING FINEST YOU GOT SO WIND UP AND LET LOOSE OH THROW RIGHT HERE YOU FUCKHEADS GIMME SOME GODDAMN BEADS.

I know it doesnt work and the parents hate it but verbal abuse is too much fun sometimes.

Megan got six, no seven, seven! more necklaces. Girl knows how to get it done.



Every family comes to parade loaded for bear. People pack enough food to last them five days in the wilderness. Theres always leftovers at the end.

Alexis had never had king cake before. This was my mission. The parade was ending and I knew that there was king cake out there to be had, you just needed to ask. And be polite. I have a special tone of voice for it, my accent goes all country and full of Maams and Sirs and Thank Yuhs. This works on older people, older drunk people, older drunk people who are looking over their three card tables packed with enough sweets and snacks to overstimulate an elementary school and all they can think is, I am too old and drunk to pack all of this up. And I come in with my Maams and Sirs and my Feel free to say no, I understand and they say, take, take as much as you want, please.

Everyone got a slice of king cake.

There was one car to take us back to Loyola. A compact car. There was seven of us. No front bench seat and Joe wasnt about to let anyone on his lap, no sir, not unless hed get a vanilla milkshake out of the deal, so five people piled in the back. Im limber so I was first in. Pressed my head up against the glass, contorted myself to take up as little room as possible. Everyone came in after.

Greta was fourth in, shes less than 100 pounds and had to be one of the ones on top. She steadied herself on Alexiss lap but Cassandra couldnt fit in then so she shifted and wiggled and gave up in a huff. She laid her head in my lap with an air of resignation.



Megan has Ludacriss shirt, a blue Hanes affair, she was backstage and he tossed it off and whoosh it went into her purse.

Luda is a sweaty motherfucker. Megan will never wash that shirt.



The night was down to four. The party nextdoor was still rolling, the two guys who live there, both Coast Guardsmen, invited all of their out-of-state friends, theyd been at it since last Saturday and they hadnt let up yet. Tonight we would match them decibel for decibel. We see your Eminem, we raise you Mos Def. You trying to play that weak Audioslave shit on us? Dillinger Escape Plan. Come to daddy.

Alexis was luxuriating on the couch and Anna was flipping through the CDs. I was in the kitchen readying the stove, nothing special, just a cheese pizza. Greta walks in and asks if she can help. Shes suddenly chirpy and not at all aloof and her eyes glint and that enigmatic smile is there, but friendly. And forward. Unfortunately I have to decline and I finish mixing the drinks.

Sarah gets home and gets ready to leave again. Anna and Alexis go to get some coke and orange juice. I plop down on the couch and Greta says, so, tell me about yourself. And everyone else is gone and so we start talking.



Somewhere in this section theres a lot of dancing. A lot of Smirnoff and cheap whiskey. At one point Anna is teaching everyone how to dance ghetto Dallas style, the tootsie roll and whatever the rest of those dances are named. Get those elbows in it, she says. Throw dem bones!



Its late. Greta is resting with her head on my lap and my head is on her side. Alexis is asleep and Anna is pretending to be but I can see that shes watching. Listening. Im trying to listen too but theres been too much alcohol and I dont know what to do. All I can hear is her breathing and its not fast, its not slow, I dont know.

A pixie like Greta can be reticent and emotionally withdrawn and still gain some experience with the opposite sex. But for the longest time I was the same way, I still am in ways, thats what I like in part, I know or I think I know the armor shes using and the fact that shes as scared as the rest of us the same way I am but Im scared now. This is new. I am not bad-looking but I have been reserved with women up until New Orleans and as such I have no experience in anything, really. One date. Never kissed. Stumbling. Now what?

I think Im listening to her but today as I look back Im pretty sure I was listening only to myself. We laid there and I didnt do anything. I thought this was the right thing to do.

And then everyone had to go home.

When you let cats approach you its easy to know when to pet them but when to pick them up, thats a whole new level of trust and its hard to know. The only thing you can do is gently take hold of the cat and pray that theres no sudden flurry of claws. Or you can just avoid the whole thing and not get hurt. It's easy and easy to justify away in the moment.



Woke up this morning and tried to find everyone, to say goodbye before they left. My timing was off and the traffic was bad and I missed them.

I left to go eat some soup and to think, I have no excuse.