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Once again, my journalistic compatriots were on hand to share the revelries. Last year a contingent from the Riverside Bureau arrived to show their prowess but, this time, they were horribly shamed by The Mighty Temecula Bureau. Tim O'Leary was a madman. An able-bodied assistant, he helped keep the food on the table and the drink upon the bar. He also looked quite the part with his Mardi Gras '79 T-shirt worn almost translucent with age. |
Of course, Temecula has a ringer with the arrival of Mr. Buckley. As in the past, he was the first assistant chef and master of ceremonies. Quick to regail partygoers on the more arcane facts of the Louisiana tradition, his presence cannot be described other than invaluable. We still don't have an explanation for the pea-green jacket though. |
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Which is not to say there were none other of my collegues on hand. Ray and Claire were on-hand to save some vestige of face for the Riverside folk. My Corona mates James and the Elf. . . er, Nicole, went the distance as well. |
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| But, hands down, it
was the beasts from Temecula that made their mark. There curious combination of elan and expressiveness (see right) made many wonder, "Who the hell are these people?" (Joe's wife also rivaled Big Dave in total Crawfish consumption, amazing the cook and other witnesses) To all you that were too busy shaving the cat, scared of the rain or just plain blew us off, we want you to know we aren't mad . . . just hurt. |
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