Mardi-Gras
Mardi-Gras
by Marie LeClare
My girlfriend and I had made plans for the longest time to go and see Mardi Gras, but we had broken up, so a gay guy I know told me he wanted to go. Since I treated him like a sister I decided we would go, because he had told me Mardi Gras was like a sexual Disneyland, and what I really needed was sex.
It was a great day in New Orleans, and the weather was co-operating, as we checked into our separate rooms at the hotel, and changed to our partying clothes.
He told me and I agreed that if we met somebody, we would meet the next day at the hotel for breakfast, lunch, or supper, as the case may be.
As we approached Bourbon Street we could hear the music and the crowds. There were thousands of people all in a party mode, wearing costumes of every description, and all with Mardi Gras beads.
As we walked down to the heart of the French Quarter, or the Quarter as everybody refers to it, we got our Hurricanes and started to dance to the music coming from all the clubs. I don’t know what’s in a Hurricane drink but it’s potent, and its effects were beginning to show with our dancing in the middle of the street like everybody else.
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