I didn’t have any Friday night plans, so I decided to just hop on my bike and ride around and see what happened. I headed down to Bourbon Street, where something is always happening. Of course, it’s always the same thing–people staggering around in various stages of drunkenness, doing what one imagines one does in New Orleans. And one of those things is to throw beads at women flashing their tits. Now Mardi Gras is actually a family holiday, and the tit-flashing is more the stuff of tourist fantasy than anything else. But it was afoot in the Quarter tonight. I snapped these pictures of men on the balcony of the Royal Sonesta Hotel, just after a woman bared her chest. The beads were flying. I didn’t catch any, but I did get a strand from a man in town for a conference, representing his company, Horizon, which offers irrigation services to golf courses. They had personalized beads, and he strung one string around my neck. He asked me if I lived here–I do–and then if “it’s always like this here.” I said yes. Because on Bourbon Street, it is, and he is welcome any time, for better or worse.