Thursday, October 29, 2009

We're nearing the midpoint of Fantasy Fest. Monday's Fetish Party is all but a slippery, whiplashed, latex page in history, and now I'm standing on Greene Street not far from the Tuesday Plaid Party hosted by Captain Tony's Saloon. So, being a professional journalist, I'm doing my best to quickly bring you all the party action as fast as it unfolds, just as soon as I finish these next eight beers.

Yes, once again, the Southernmost City is packed with throngs of unique people from so many diverse places with so much really dumb stuff to say. Given that, I just love jotting down their words in my official reporter's notebook, which I brought with me and lost somewhere near the corner of Sloppy Joe's Bar. Instead I'm scribbling these notes on my wife Jennifer's thigh, hoping she doesn't jump in the shower as soon as we get home.

But why simply list the comments of drunk, semi-naked revelers for you, the reader, to quickly glaze over and go "har"? I say why not turn these bits into a laugh-out-loud Q A format to guide you through the rest of the week?

Therefore, I'm pleased to announce, as yet another public service from your friends at The Citizen (Editor's note: Not us), actual comments I overheard by a cross-section of Fantasy Fest revelers -- followed by what I think would be an appropriate response. So as famous entertainer Jackie Gleason -- a guy you would never want to see naked at Fantasy Fest -- would have said if he were still among us: "And away we go":

Q: Anybody know where I can get a touch-up on my butt paint?

A: Not when it looks like that. Please invest in some turpentine and shorts.

Q: How can I drink when you keep pulling on my dog collar?

A: The Fetish Party was Monday. Try another costume, Rover.

Q: Check out how much weight I can hang from this piercing!

A: Ewww.

(Yes, and before you start sending angry e-mails, I know that wasn't a question, per se, however, had I written something as disingenuous as "Q: Hey, anybody wanna see how much weight I can hang from this piercing?" My answer would have been: "A: You bet!" But that would have been way too creepy.)

Q: Can we return the beads before we leave?

A: Sure, they'll be happy to accommodate you at the "We Give Refunds on Sweaty Beads Depot," you cheap @#$%!

Q: I'm ready to go back to the hotel. Who wants to take me?

A: Unless you're Fantasy Fest Parade Grand Marshal and Playboy model Bridgette Marquardt, no one does, lady-whose-body-proves-gravity-truly-exists.

And a follow-up on that question:

Q: Who wants to get naked with me!?

A: Only if your driver's license shows the name Megan Fox or Brad Pitt. If not, then nobody.

Q: Wow! He's filthy and smells like pee. Don't you think his costume looks like a real homeless guy?

A: Um ... that is a real homeless guy.

Q: Do you know if the parade on Saturday comes up Duval Street?

A: Well ... you know, I'm not sure what all these barricades are out here for. Probably in case a spontaneous soccer riot breaks out. Actually, I think the parade starts in Broward County. Leave now so you can get a good spot.

Q: Since you're local, where are all the cheap hotel rooms?

A: Nebraska.

Q: Ha! Oh I get it. That was funny because I bet you get that "cheap hotel" question all the time. No, really, where are they?

A: This time of year I just want to lie under the wheels of a parade float.

Q: Hey, wait a second! I recognize you! Aren't you Tom Walker? You took me to the drive-in when we were in high school, then left with another girl!

A: No habla the English, senorita.

Ha, ha. I just made up that last question and answer as a bonus, because once more, here at The Citizen (Editor's note: Again, not us) we spare no expense when it comes to keeping you informed. Speaking of informed, I hope this brief tome has helped answer any lingering questions you might have at this juncture regarding various aspects of Fantasy Fest.

So in conclusion, at this point you should remember there is still much revelry to experience during the balance of the week, which in no way should deter you from asking those really important Fantasy Fest questions. Just don't ask them around me. After all, I'm a serious journalist. Therefore, in closing, I want to send you the following mental image: I'M FLASHING MY BOOBS!

Tom Walker is a former Citizen reporter and columnist who fled the profession for a career in law enforcement. However, his dark side emerges periodically in the form of columns such as this.