Grapefruitl

b“Grapefruit, a bathing suit, chew a little juicy fruit, wash away the night,” and Jimmy Buffett gives us the hangover cure. “Dive in, guzzle gin, commit a little mortal sin…it’s good for the soul.”

Tell me about it!

Yesterday was Mardi Gras on Tybee which means that a very lame parade is an excellent excuse for a party. And if Tybee knows how to do anything, it’s party. So the streets were lined with people, the bars were flooded with people and facsimiles thereof, and tourists mixed with locals in pursuit of beads.

Unlike that other Mardi Gras party, beads are pretty easy to come by on Tybee and exposing of one’s self is not necessary though it is highly encouraged by most. So the big question asked is “If white people have brown nipples then do brown people have white ones?”

I’ll have to ask Franklin when I go back to the Breakfast Club.

So we started at the Bored meeting in front of Fannie’s were someone lost their mind and gave Roma a bullhorn so she was barking instructions at everybody. Of course we all ignored her and mulled around looking at Jenny Orr’s miniature goat “Josephine” and her roommate “Larkin”, the Irish Wolf Hound.

Then Roma rolled away in her Golf Cart which is illegal on Tybee along with Ester and a garbage bag full of beads. The rest of us made our way to the corner of Tybrisa Street (which used to be 16th Street and is after 15th Street and before 17th Street but for some reason is named Tybrisa Street) and Butler Avenue, the main drag.

Not too long ago another city went out of business and Tybee bought all of their stop signs. We now have more stop signs on this island than there are jelly fish in the ocean. It’s pretty much impossible to go more than five feet without stopping.

Anyway the parade took three hours to get from one end of Butler Avenue to the other because it kept having to stop for the 17 Stop Signs in the middle of the street.

That didn’t seem to bother the crowd standing in front of Bennie’s who were drinking heavily as the anticipation built. William, a member of the Tybee Island Police Department, proved that he can operate heavy machinery by whipping out a screwdriver and taking down one of the stop signs in an effort to hurry the parade along.

Then the parade passed us by and three minutes later it was over.

We all made our way back to Fannies where bedlam had broken out. Roma was still screaming at everyone with her bullhorn and everyone continued to ignore her. The workers of Fannies were wearing …well … Fannies and lots of people were talking about it. Couples were sharing Fruit-roll-ups with each starting at one end and nibbling to the middle in a kiss. Mardi Gras had turned into a typical Saturday afternoon!

Whitley’s drunken bicycle cruised by without Whitley on it. We all wondered what had happened to him. Everybody knows about his bicycle.

The rest of the day is a blur. It does seem as though night came and went.

So this morning I am sitting her chewing juicy fruit and seriously considering riding to the Tybee Market for a grapefruit. It would be difficult as I’m sitting at my kitchen table wearing sunglasses wondering who put my shirt on backwards and what happened to the other sock? I need someone to dress me!

Anyway it’s Sunday now. We all survived Saturday Mardi Gras on Tybee. I wonder what we’ll do today.

Wait! That was a stupid question. After Bar-Church we’ll do it all again.

I need to go to Bar Church today so that I can pray that someone takes the damn bullhorn from Roma.