A Mardi Gras To Remember
I don’t know why they called the captain’s place “quarters.” It’s a very nice apartment. It seemed to me that “suite” would be more appropriate. That evening there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find a sailor standing there with two metal trays. “Hello,” I said, “What’s this?”
“Chow Ma’am,” he replied.
“Chow?” I asked.
“Yes Ma’am, would you like me to carry it inside?”
“Oh, no thank you, I used to be a waitress, I can manage it.” He smiled and handed me the trays and then turned and walked away. I called out to Dean who was watching TV in the living room. “Dean, chow!” He laughed. I made Dean laugh! Another knock on the door. I opened it and said, “Hello again.”
“I’m sorry to bother you Ma’am, but I forgot to inform you that your car will be here to pick you up at 1600 hours tomorrow.”
“My car?”
“Yes Ma’am, your escort to the Mardi Gras.”
“Wow! Thanks man.” I replied. Dean was already digging into his “chow.” I couldn’t believe this. Free room and board and transportation too. “Dean, we’re living the dream.”
“Yep.”
“Dean, what time is 1600 tomorrow?”
“4:00 tomorrow afternoon.”
At 4:00 there was a knock on the door. I was wearing my best dress and sandals and had my hair pinned up. I was very excited. I was going to the Mardi Gras! Dean said, “Ready to go?”
“Yep, but wish you were going with me.”
“Beatrice, you look nice.” Wow. A compliment from Dean.
“You can still go with me,” I said.
”No, I can’t. I don’t do crowds and bright lights. They mess with my head. Have a great time, Beatrice B. Goode.”
I opened the door and two uniformed MP’s we standing on each side of the doorway. They each simultaneously offered me their elbow. Or is it their arm? I’ve never had that experience before. I felt like I was the Queen Bea. They escorted me to their military police car, opened the back door, and off we went to wherever the Mardi Gras was.
It was grand. So much activity was head spinning, I didn’t know which way to turn. My escorts were always close by. There were parades and clowns and floats and music and food and drink. Lots of drinks. My escorts made sure I always had a margarita in my hand. They tended to my every need. The aromas of the street were plentiful. Popcorn, beer, wine, fruit, Cajun seafood, and others, depending on which vendor we passed by. And weed… They should have named it the “Mardi Grass” party, not the Mardi Gras. There was lots of music and dancing and showing off. The young girls shook what the boys liked to see shaking. I even saw some girls flashing their boobs. My escorts liked that! They told me the girls get necklace beads in exchange. Not something that I would ever do though. It was the wildest night I had ever experienced in my life. There was so much going on, everything became blurred together. I had never had so many drinks in my life before that night. The margaritas were never-ending, but apparently, I wasn’t. The blurred spectacle became dimmer and then turned black. Oh, I thought they must’ve turned off the lights for some reason. Maybe there’s going to be fireworks.
I woke up to sunlight shining in through the bedroom window. Oh, what a hangover. Oh, what a headache, this must be what Dean feels like all the time. Dean, where is Dean? Oh, what time is it? Oh, where am I? “Ohhhh shit” I yelled out. I looked over and saw Dean come walking into the bedroom.
“Good afternoon, Beatrice, welcome home.” I was in bed, still in my dress (whew about that), and wearing several necklace beads. Where did they come from? Oh my god, I’ll never party like that again, ever. “Dean, what happened?”
“Nothing that doesn’t happen to everyone at the Mardi Gras. You got loaded. Thank God the MPs were with you and watching out for you.”
“I don’t remember a thing.”
“Go back to sleep Bea.” He called me Bea. I passed out again and didn’t wake up again until the next morning. After I showered, I almost felt human again.
Dean and I just laid around all day, watching TV. I kept asking Dean what happened to me at the Mardi Gras. He said he didn’t know because he wasn’t there. But the MPs assured him that they kept me safe, let me have fun, and brought me right home after I passed out. “Nothing bad happened, they took care of you. You’re going to be fine. But they said you sure are a real party animal!” Dean said.
“Not funny Dean. I am so embarrassed. I feel bad about how I must have behaved. I feel like I’m a fat drunk!”
“You are not a drunk.”
“Gee, thanks Dean… I’m going into the office; I need to call Jean.”
RUCKSACK GRUNT - A Vietnam Veteran's Memoir 