The invitation arrived all by itself on Thursday afternoon. And yet, it filled the mailbox. I could tell by the quality of the envelope this was an expensive mailing. With no stamp, no address, and no return address, I wasn't sure how it got into my mailbox, or if it was even supposed to be for me. But, the costly envelope begged to be opened.
Inside was a card. Nothing more.
It stated:
Call this number for further directions.
I can't help but admit I was intrigued. As I walked down the street to my house, I dialed the number. I could always hang up was my most convincing argument.
I didn't get a chance. I heard a ring, then a busy signal.
"No harm done." I said to no one in particular.
Entering the kitchen, I threw the envelope and card in the trash. No sooner had I done so than my phone buzzed several times with text messages.
The first message stated:
Do not try to call this number. We do not answer calls, only specific texts. You will be receiving sensitive information from us. You should keep it private. If you do not wish to receive further messages, reply STOP.
The second message stated:
You will receive an invitation to our Mardi Gras party once the coronavirus pandemic government imposed limitations are lifted. This will occur at a discrete residence. You will be expected to wear a mask and no more than ten other items of clothing total (i.e. socks = 2). The reason for this will be explained at the party.
The final message stated:
It appears you have several weeks to get ready, but be ready to attend as soon as we text again. You should not share this information as we keep tight control on the number of people attending. If you change your mind, simply reply STOP.
Heeding those requirements, I got my Mardi Gras best together. I loved going to New Orleans, often to take part in those Fat Tuesday activities. I've gone alone one time, but the best times have been with my friends. So, I got a nice shirt and tie, a pair of shorts, comfortable sandals, and my 8 year old mask.
Excluding the mask, that equaled 5 items to wear. I'm not sure why they were so specific about number of items worn, but at least I was ready to go. From the looks of this pandemic, I didn't need to be too worried about this party any time soon. I threw the clothes together in my closet, and got back to the daily issues of living in such times.
It was a mere month of stay at home orders, personal quarantines, and gobs of pleasant news every single day. What an asswhip. I'm just glad I didn't go to New Orleans this year. That was a bad place to be.
So, here we go. It's several weeks past the initial scare and extended social-distancing guidelines, and the world seems to be returning to work. Not the big cities, mind you. That's gonna be painful. The text message I forgot was coming did just that.
Here is the address.
Here is the time.
Doors are only open for thirty minutes.
Do not be late.
Don't forget the dresscode.
See you then.
Reply YES or NO
Tomorrow? That's quick. I suddenly felt nervous pangs in my stomach. I won't have my friends with me. I'll be on my own in a new place. Time for a hurricane.
But first, I typed YES into my phone and hit the send button.
Still working from home, I worked voraciously the next day to keep my mind off the coming evening's activities. I decided sometime during the day to add in some thong underwear to help highlight my package. I also decided if this turned into a sausage fest,I would hightail it out of there. The ratio of women had better be very favorable.
Cleaned up, and ready to go, I give myself enough time to arrive and scope out the scene. The address just led to a non-descript industrial park and nothing more. As I pulled up, a group of tuxedo-wearing men approached.
"Put on your mask immediately!" They directed. "Type this address into your phone GPS. You have 25 seconds. If you mis-type, too bad."
I grabbed my mask, typed in the address they were showing on an iPad, and drove off. The map directions came on, and I headed back toward the city-center. This was not some amateur deal.
I arrived about 30 minutes later after navigating downtown. I found myself in front of the original city homes, probably built by a wealthy citizen from back in the day. A dark metal fence surrounded the house, except for an opening into a driveway. Entering it, I found quite a good sized lot for many cars. This property was obviously changed from a residence to some sort of museum or art building. Parking lot attendants stopped us, ushered us out of our cars, and drove our vehicles away for parking.
By us, I am referring to a steady stream of cars into the lot. I followed the people already out of their cars toward the building. Some people take this Mardi Gras stuff very seriously and dressed quite well.
Others like me weren't so serious, but their masks looked like they obviously spent a pretty penny. Still, I wonder how I got this invite.
After ascending the nice marble steps, I stepped into the grandest foyer I have ever seen. There I received a small backpack which I put on my back and again followed the crowd toward a bar. It was time for this Mardi Gras thing to get rolling.
After picking up a drink, I was able to wander. The eye candy was off the charts. A large table was next to a wall. On it were piles of beads. Men grabbed handfuls while the women mostly left them.
It seemed some people knew others, but not a lot. I made some small talk as I wandered. Getting well-lubed is always the goal in NOLA, so why not here? 20 minutes after the doors closed, I could tell the female ratio was definitely in my favor. Some women were already earning beads, and the crowd got louder and louder with each passing minute.
Then an announcement from the DJ when they quieted the music.
