bliumchik | All Aboard the Failboat!

There was me, all dressed up in black and white - thigh high socks, hat, & ! on face - the works. So, Mardi Gras. Big parade, bright colours, many topless people. Also, apparently, crowds big enough that some entrepreneurial geniuses (geniusi?) made big bucks on stools at extortionate prices. And yes, I did buy one. This despite the fact that I got there at six twenty as per spec. Avi et al were very, very late - I, under the impression that they were only slightly late (ah ha ha ha), and as a newbie to the whole shebang, decided to stay put where I was, that is, St James station. Forty minutes later and with no telephonic contact (my mobile, alas, refuses to connect to Avi's except via sms, which were not being returned) I gave up and followed the crowd. Sadly, by that point said crowd was a metre deep around the parade barriers, necessitating the purchase of that goddamn stool.

I set it up between a pink-shirted bloke with a self-proclaimed fag-hag, both on chairs, and a couple of guys trading off hoisting a girl with a camera up on their shoulders. Height, clearly, is an advantage in parade-watching terms. Plenty of folks had milk crates, and some nice shopkeeper offered a couple of those to some people near me in place of their extremely unsturdy from-home stool-type-things. I had to get off my stool at intervals to massage some feeling back into my legs, which is presumably how the thing ended up sticky with spilled alcohol.

I enjoyed the various marching bands and cheerleaders, and of course the random nudity (well... I enjoyed some of that). Also very cool were the people on stilts and the two little old ladies from the Lesbian Lawn Bowls Club (The Only Balls A Woman Needs Are Bowling Balls). Then I walked for about an eon to the bus stop, carrying my stool and vowing to get better boots all the way. The thing was a bit unwieldy, but I paid more for it than for my crappy but parade-inflated hot dog, so I was damned if I was leaving it behind. Turned out to be a good thing as the bus stop was crowded and I at least had something to sit on.

It was later discovered that Avi's phone had bailed on him and he was unable to physically look for me as one of his other friends had had an anxiety attack, which is completely understandable. Nevertheless, it was a less than fortuitous first Mardi Gras for me. But at least now I've seen the thing!

That was a bit of a last straw for those boots though - or it was going to be, as I found some cool hiking boots in my wardrobe. They were very comfy and I wore them to uni on Monday. Mid-tutorial I discovered one sole hanging off at the heel. Oh dear, says I. That will need fixing. Unfortunately it was too late for that - during my walk to the bus stop the right sole detached entirely. I picked it up and put it in my bag and limped onwards, only to discover the left sole flagging. Craaaap, says I. And sure enough, within a few hundred metres of disembarking the bus I discovered that I was entirely sole-less. But then the bizarre thing - I retraced my steps only to find that sole had disappeared! It was definitely attached when I got off the bus, yet somehow vanished into thin air!

So, uh. Boo, no boots for me. Here, have some tips for evil scientists in training.