That thing you do
Every year you tell yourself the same thing -- "I'm not going to fight for those beads and trinkets they throw." Nonetheless, by the time the third float passes in the Mardi Gras Parade, you do what every other New Orleanian does -- you scramble for every last pair of beads you can get your hands on.
It's the pageantry, the music, the crowds, the excitement that gets in your blood. You've been doing this for years and every float, every yell, every pair of beads flying through the air draws up a deep and friendly primal urge. This is you. This is what you do. This is what you love to do. You do it well. You're the master bead catcher. This is New Orleans, pure New Orleans. Dawlin.
NOTE -- I received a couple of awards from my City Daily Photo friends. I'm a little late in acknowledging it. But bear with me -- tomorrow when I have a little more time to juggle things, we're going to have some fun with this. Make sure you come back.
Lagniappe -- ( a little something extra )
Marathoner, you have run 26.2 miles. 0.013 miles to go. And those last few hundred feet are all about love.
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