You bring the Flowers, I'll bring the Battle

The Batalle de Flores is the first of the three major Carnival Parades to travel down Via Cuarenta. What does that mean to me, you ask? Stop being so damned self-centered. What it means to us all, to the universe, is that last saturday I purchased some seats on a Palco, and La Flaca and I went to watch the first big parade, just so's I could photograph it for posterity and for you.

It was a complete mess.

I did get to spray a lot of spuma though, as the first pic indicates. That's me on the right (#24) helping the crowd to douche some kid who was basically making everyone else's life miserable with his very existence. Later (second pic) I was hoisted on my own petard, or is that Peppard. Either way, not even Mr. T with a cutting torch, chain saw and soldering iron could have gotten me out of spuma-hell: I had to pay for my Palco sins. Speaking of my sins, I managed to squeeze some ass-photography in for the public: I like that the guy with the video camera is being decent enough to not photograph the dancing girls crotch, but not so ridiculously decent as to not stare right at it.

No matter how you skinned that cat, though, the parade was a debacle. The dance groups, floats and bands were starting haphazardly and during the delays the people (la gente) wandered into the parade route and caused a mess of things. Damn la gente, they sure know how to ruin the rich people's fun. The mob was getting ugly and I was preparing to ditch La Flaca, and make a run for it, saving my own sorry skin, as I figured the Gringoes would be the first ones crucified when the Palcos were finally stormed by the angry mob.

Then I noticed a couple Gringoes marching in the parade. Adam managed to find a Rey Momo hat and sword and innexplicably walked the parade route, since nothing else exciting was going on. He had been sitting in our Palco only moments earlier. Que Raro!

So Saturday came to an end, and the Batalle de Flores and the only parade I would see, as I jumped ship early Sunday morning to spend the next three days in peaceful ignorance at the beach town of Rodadero an hour away. Marichy's reign will be only a sweet sweet memory soon, as she rides her blue sun/cauliflower float into the recesses of our hearts and minds.