Adventure from the Past: Soulard Mardi Gras, 2004

2004 marked my second year of Soulard Mardi Gras. I had told so many friends about the crazy antics I witnessed the year before, that my friend Sean decided to travel all the way from Oregon to join in the festivities. He was not disappointed.

There’s really not too much to the story. What I do remember is standing in line a lot for the potty. This is standard practice, except this year I had misjudged my bladder capacity, and I was in a bit a pinch. The pain was making my eyes water. As I waited in line, I realized I wasn’t going to make it. I was desperate. I left Sean and ran down the alley.
I knew full well the penalty for public urination. I was told the police keep a strict watch out for people breaking this rule. I was petrified of this as I entered the alley, thinking that I might just have to pay a ticket if it came to that.

But as I rounded the corner, my fears left me. Everywhere I looked, there were people relieving themselves. I would have problem blending in. Even if the cops showed up, they couldn’t catch us all!

So entered the back of somebody’s property, where there was actually some vegetation and dirt to soak things up. I was doing just fine, until some girl came RIGHT up next to me and squatted. That was unexpected. Her boyfriend came up on my other side and started up conversation. Unreal.
The photo above shows the parade itself. You might be able to make out a figure dressed in blue and red marching along in some 5 inch platform shoes. That is Baton Bob (the Ambassador of Mirth as he likes to call himself), local St. Louis legend and hallmark figure of the Central West End (the area of town I lived in). I acutally have an autograph of Bob, signed "The Ambassador" on the front cover of the Riverfront Times. The Riverfront Times is a local alternative newspaper that had recently chosen to photo Bob for the front cover of an issue. I think the autograph will be worth money someday when black men wearing tutus and twirling batons becomes a big thing. Check the Ambassador out at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ambassadorofmirth/

An simple internet search will also provide all sorts of stories about him.

By the end of the day, Sean had started to feel his oats, and was last seen walking down the street spreading some sort of gospel to “his subjects”. It was a fine show.
As suspected, the event turned out be just as filthy and grotesque as the year before. Sean was totally satisfied.