Where Ya't!?!! 2002

Where Ya't !?!! 2002

The third annual Mardi Gras turkey-frying, beer-drinking, crawfish-boiling, gumbo cooking fiesta!

The last twelve months turned out to be pretty tumultuous for a lot of folks so it was understandable there was a large amount of concern about whether our infamous party might not actually happen.

Not a chance. This is what we live for people!

So one evening in late January, Lynden and I got together at the pub and started making the plans for this year's madness. To be honest, it's almost routine for us at this point.

Which isn't to say it isn't a challenge. There were plenty of curve balls thrown at us by fate to make it more interesting this year than we typically care for.

As night fell on the designated Saturday evening I was at my appointed station behind a row of propane burners.

Lynden was alsoat his usual post as seen in this rare photo.

And our boy Shawn was back on board again this year keeping the folks at the bar in their cups as he has each year.

We even conned a local politician to help out with the grunt work. Who says public service is dead?

And, despite our perennial concerns, people started arriving and soon the place was packed with festive folk. We think the final count was in the 250 to 300 range -- but probably a few less than 2001.

Yet the fine folks who showed up had nothing to be ashamed at when the final accounting was completed:

	At the bar: Four kegs Ten cases of beer Six half-gallons of vodka Four half-gallons of tequila A dozen bottles of wine Three bottles of Jagermeister A half-gallon of rum A half gallon of gin A half gallon of burbon
		In the kitchen: Nine fried turkeys (including one done with my newest invention - the Jagermeister marinade!) 80 pounds of boiled crawfish One turducken More than 150 fried biscuts Three pounds of boudin Ten gallons of gumbo One King Cake

As usual, there were a few complications.

The friendly folks with the Riverside Sheriff's Department stopped by to say hello again this year. We also had a special son-of-a-bitch show up who had a penchant for sexual battery -- section 243.4 of the California Penal Code, asshole.

As for me, I've since shaken the dust of Riverside County from my sandals and moved along. We'll try to do it again next year but no one knows what the future may hold.

If, it turns out, this was the last year for the event everyone should refer to my customized apparel to know exactly where the blame must lay.