Sunday, February 13, 2005

MARDI GRAS.

Not the one in New Orleans, but the one at the Miami Bayside. At 6pm, which is when the sun starts setting over here, we left Residence Inns and headed south to Miami. Hit a relatively minor traffic jam when we reached the Bayside, and then we paid US10 to park our car in the multi-storey parking lot. That's a lot of money for parking.

After parking in our very expensive US10 lot, we went for dinner at the foodcourt. And then we adjourned to the area at the Bayside where they were having the concert. The place was filled with A LOT of African-Americans and Jamaicans and Latin Americans and okay, I'm not very sure who else were there, but their asses sure ain't white. Therefore my colleagues, who have yet to grasp the idea of black appreciation, didn't really like the event. Idiots.

We squirmed our way to the middle of the concert area. There was a lot of body-rubbing, and I saw guys grabbing girls' asses as they walked by. The temptation was there of course, but I try not to get myself killed. For some reason, the girls here have perky asses. Really perky. They walk by you, your macho instincts scream to pinch or squeeze or grab those luscious buns. And when they start bending over, you stop wondering why there are so many unmarried mothers in America. Good Lord, I *am* the earthly incarnation of the god of self-denial.

Anyway. I inhaled a whole lot of smoke. Cigars, cigarettes, possibly some weed too. The traffic to the center of the concert area was really heavy. We had to squeeze around, shove, push, get pushed, get pushed, get pushed, push back, get flattened, elbow others and basically be pretty violent just to move a step. Was it fun? Pretty much. I like standing out like a sore thumb in the middle of a crowd. A quartet of Asians in a predominantly black crowd. Damnit, I should have attended Martin Luther King's birthday festival.

After we got to the middle area, we stood there for awhile to watch the concert. They mostly sang reggae songs. Not sure if it was in Spanish or some South American language or Jamaican. But it was pretty fun. They got two girls to go up to dance, and man did they know how to shake their booties around. While watching the concert, a mini parade of people with musical instruments cut a swath through the crowd, resulting in more pushing around. Much fun. I think this is the first time I've attended such a concert. Usually it's violins and cellos and a piano. This time there're people rapping in Spanish(?) on stage with girls shaking their booties everywhere. A Caucasian girl was shaking her booty pretty well in front of us. Booty-shaking on stage. Booty-shaking in front of us. So what were we missing out here?

The boobie flashing. Yes, no one flashed their boobs. You know what? They didn't even have to flash at us. They could have flashed at other people and we would have been happy too. But did they flash? No. They didn't. I guess it's partly because everyone was watching the concert, dancing with the parade or just hanging around with their friends. Also, it was very cold there. Yes, everything was very nice and warm and fragrant ( weed? ) in the concert area cause there were so many bodies pressed closely together. But once we reached the outskirts of the crowd, the chilly wind hit us and we started turning into human iceblocks. I'm thinking that the cold would harden nipples, thus making them more photogenic, but I think the girls there don't see it that way.

I would have loved to stay at the concert until ended ( it was warm there, yeah ), but my colleagues weren't really into listening to reggae songs they didn't understand and inhaling sweet smoke ( from weed? ). So we went back to the Bayfront area and walked around a bit. I've been there twice in the day, but nothing beats the Bayfront at night. Such beautiful lights, reflected on the water. Arturo Fuerte was playing Spanish dance numbers with two pretty girls dancing along. I think it's salsa. The Simoniac would know for sure, but he's humping elephants in India. The wind was chilly, but it was nice. The small cruise ships left with people partying on the upper decks. A couple got on the gondola ride while another couple looked on, considering the ride. And we saw more girls with slim stomachs and perky butts. Yes, the macho instincts threatened to take over, but like Angel, I am on the road to redemption. And the road to redemption is one hell of a bitch. I wonder how I would be now if I decided to emulate Austin Powers instead. Probably a whole lot more fun than Mr. I Can't Do Anything Fun Tonight Cause I Have To Count My Past Sins Then Alphabetize Them.

So, that was Mardi Gras in Miami. I did enjoy myself in that special very reserved way I have of enjoying things. "You should stop internalizing fun," my shrink tells me. And she's probably right. Of course, without boobie flashing, Mardi Gras isn't really Mardi Gras. I should really go to the one in New Orleans, Louisiana if I can. Not only is that the bona fide Mardi Gras, it's also where Gabriel Knight started off in. It's where we can do that voodoo we do.

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