Strippers to the left, drunks to the right

The Masked Observer By The Masked Observer Press-Register
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on February 24, 2009 at 7:32 AM, updated January 13, 2010 at 3:46 PM
Revelers in the Joe Cain Parade toss throws to the crowds gathered along Royal Street in downtown Mobile, Ala., Saturday, Feb. 22, 2009.
The Masked Observer had to be hospitalized briefly on Joe Cain Day while doctors worked feverishly to get the chorus of Beyonce's "All The Single Ladies" out of his head, but he wrote this little bit before the drugs kicked in.

Joe Cain Day always throws him for a loop, because it's the so-called People's Procession. Sure, the people need a permit now, but the idea of the common man is still paramount.

Well, the Observer walked through Bienville Square on Sunday afternoon, and the common man needs to pull his pants up. As for the common man's escort? Let's just say that Sammy's is ready when you are, girlfriend.

The Observer always has such high hopes for the people's parade. Maybe he'll walk downtown and there will be impromptu string quartets on every corner. Perhaps someone will be doing a reading from Shakespeare, Keats or Milton. Then he'll encounter a food vendor selling Yorkshire pudding, just like his mother used to make.

Sure, the odd sassy chaps will get into an argument over antidisestablishmentarianism, but that's to be expected.

Instead, the Masked One got the girls of the Grand Central balcony, who certainly didn't behave like the girls at Sammy's. They were more like the girls at Diamonds, according to Dark Hallway. More competitive. Willing to negotiate on the price of a table dance. Particularly that one brunette with the raspberry top. How many payments are left on those, dear?

And the people they were throwing trinkets to below were just as bad. One young lady was wearing her thong outside her low-cut dungarees, for heaven's sake. Your mother must be very proud.

Lest you think it was all debauchery, the Observer did have a delightful "electronic mail," as they are called, from a correspondent who reported that she took her family to Bienville Square and had a perfectly lovely time. The various parades were awe-inspiring, she said, and total strangers were soon fast friends as the spirit of Mardi Gras took hold.

* * *

On Joe Cain Day the Observer generally visits his friends in Oakleigh, until they realize it's him and lock their doors, leaving him to sit on the chained-down patio furniture.

He did have a report from his favorite Crewe des Bivalves queen that her historic organization now has competition from not one but two new Oakleigh groups. There's the Mystic Fish, who sport snazzy costumes, and a more loosely organized non-mystical group spotted at a house on Marine Street. Its members carried elaborately decorated umbrellas.

So now the Crewe des Bivalves, the original loosely organized Oakleigh mystic society, is having a crisis over branding. The upstart groups cannot be allowed to one-up them. One Bivalve suggested dressing the members in strategically placed oyster shells, which the Observer finds promising in some cases, not promising in others. Another Bivalve noted there's nothing as memorable as a mule-pulled wagon and snake dancers. His motion was not seconded.

* * *

After taking three very hot showers, the Observer stopped by the superb 48th-annual Le Krewe de Bienville ball at Mobile Civic Center.

The krewe was celebrating the earliest signs of Mardi Gras in the New World, including the Cowbellion de Rakin Society. At their parade they also appeared with the Krewe of Admiral Semmes, which provided a stately naval air to the proceedings.

Floral Headpiece, the Observer's soon-to-be-retiring personal assistant, didn't seem that impressed with the Sunday night event until she discovered a party room completely dedicated to desserts. That room was getting quite a lot of attention from women and other carb junkies. Ms. Headpiece declared that the chocolate-covered strawberries were quite magnificent.

* * *

After all that, the only thing left on the agenda was a visit to the Order of Khaos, meeting atop the Holiday Inn in the Skyview Lounge.

By now an ambulance had already picked up the Observer, who kept muttering, "If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it."

This left Dark Hallway, who has always been more a follower than a leader, to assess the Order of Khaos.

The group, it turns out, formed 17 years ago on a front porch in Fairhope. For a while they converged on an RV parked at the Civic Center, but now they meet at various spots downtown.

Dark Hallway did his best at reconnoitering, then called his boss.

"What did they do?" the Observer asked from his hospital bed.

"They danced," Hallway said.

"What else did they do?"

"Nothing, really. They just danced," Hallway said.

"Are they human, or are they dancer?" the Observer asked.

At this point, the phone went dead.

(Coming Wednesday: Our annual awards and highlights column, just as the frivolity of Mardi Gras slides headlong into the solemnity of Lent. And is called out. To e-mail the mysterious one:

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