Mardi Gras - Santa Barbara Style

I spent Saturday running around downtown Santa Barbara in a red feather boa, bustier, mini skirt, garters, stockings, and feathered mask. It was the Santa Barbara Hash House Harriers' seventh annual Mardi Gras event.

I am usually enthusiastic about these events but for some reason I just never got into the spirit of things this year. It may have something to do with my recent bout with sobriety. Nevertheless I reluctantly spent Friday evening at the mall looking for an adequate costume to fit the theme of "red and raunchy". At least it is Valentine season so there was plenty of red to choose from in the lingerie departments. In fact, there was almost too much to choose from because, yes, you can have too much red lingerie. Besides, I am a bit averse to red lingerie ever since A, of Catwoman fame (July 2004 archives), asked me to don one particular outfit so many years back. In the end I found something sufficiently trashy yet subtly innocent. Okay, maybe not innocent, but the theme was red and raunchy...

So there I was, sitting in a bar, looking like I ought to be in a saloon with rooms rented by the hour, somewhat sober, watching the events unfold, when I noticed something terrible happening...People were giving out beads left and right and no one was flashing!!! What self-respecting Mardi Gras participant would ever give up a set of beads without seeing some flesh? What is the point of calling something Mardi Gras if you aren't going to keep with the tradition? I was greatly disturbed and disappointed in those folks - especially the ones constantly begging for a flash without reason or beads. This was their opportunity to ask without seeming so lurid. I am, however, proud to say that I earned the one set of beads I coveted most - the set of little pink bunnies - by doing a half-flash (that would amount to one breast) for a recently engaged, highly intoxicated man. The benefit of this bargain for me was 1. The bunny beads, 2. He was too drunk to remember, and 3. He'd never tell even if he did remember because his fiancee would probably kill him. I also learned it's tough to properly flash while constrained in a bustier.

One of the highlights was watching the games along the way. As I was sober I was not participating. One stop had folks, including my good friend S, giving and receiving Jello body shots. Poor S was attempting to hold her Jello shot between her two enhanced breasts when it slipped and ran down her body and skirt. Luckily, M was at the ready and promptly cleaned up the mess with his tongue. Naturally, someone was standing by with a camera so that S's kids can have a nice vision of their mother with a large man in lingerie shoving his head between her legs...

And then there was something to do with holding a banana between your thighs, pouring chocolate on it, and having a contest of who could eat the banana fastest. I don't know who won that one but do recall that I thought it odd the women had the bananas between their thighs and the men were the ones swallowing...That scenario coincides with the noticeable number of men wearing women's lingerie and dresses. This event did not require, nor even suggest that the men should wear women's attire. I always take note of those men than seem to enjoy wearing women's clothing when not required. I'm not sure what it really says about them but I am sure it means something is amiss and when the police come knocking, I will have the list ready.

Yet another vision that will take years of therapy to put past me is that of one man from San Diego. He was wearing a red satin g-string with a vest, chaps and a cowboy hat. What struck me about the costume, other than the obvious, was the fact that he was a hairy man. His legs and back were hairy. Funny thing was that he had clearly shaved his butt, only his butt. It made for an odd sight because he looked kind of like a little orangutan in a cowboy suit. I didn't ask the method to his madness...why bother shaving just the cheeks? Why not do all or nothing?

In the end it was a rare occassion for me not because of the antics and events, rather because I remembered everything I did, which was nothing too out-of-control, remembered what my friends did, which was a bit out-of-control, and felt fine the morning after. I hope this doesn't mean I am growing up.