It was Mardi Gras. There was only the three of us this time: me, Sal and Ray. Where Mark was I'm not sure. Ususally when there was three of us it was the four of us. He probably was sending Mardi Gras with his family.
We went across the river. To the city. We left early, to catch Zulu. That mean leaving at six. We stopped and ate breakfast at Shonneys and than took the ferry across the river. This was easier than trying to find someplace to park. I have two images from this year at Mardi Gras. One is a picture I have of the trip, Ray is lying back on the grass on the neutral ground with a cowboy hat over his face.
The second took place on Canal Street. We went down there to eat. We got some chicken at Popeyes and ate it sitting around, watching the people and the parades. We didn't go into the Quarter. I've found for Mardi Gras, if you go downtown, you either go into the Quarter and spend the day there or you stay out on the streets and watch the parade.
Sal went to use one of the portapottys that lined the middle of Canal Street. We sat back and waited for him. After a few minutes you could hear banging coming from the portapotty that Sal was in. We were watching now. So was a good part of the crowd. The banging got louder. Suddenly the door flew open and Sal was standing there with a bemused expression on his face as the crowd around him errupted in cheers. He had forgotten that he had the chain on the door when he tried to get out.
That is something that I never let Sal forget.
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