I’ve written before about the peculiar perils of working in an environment where everyone likes each other. I’ve also written about my distinctive honor last year, when I won the Baby. Everything came together on Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras.
I bought this year’s King Cake for the festivities–one of the privileges when you win the Baby and become the King of Mardi Gras–and our native New Orleans person brought the cake from her favorite bakery along with lots of beads, as seen below.
And here is the young lady herself, who did an outstanding job of organizing.
This is how a King Cake appears shortly before its devouring.
This cake was beautiful–never saw such a good looking King before. Even better, it was still warm when my colleague bought it, and therefore it was the freshest and therefore best King Cake I’ve ever eaten.
Now as the King, I did receive one extra privilege. Everyone else received a strand or two of beads. my strand included something extra.
I now have permission to spell “crew” with a K at the front and an E at the end.
Obviously, I’m still not big on selfies.
Other co-workers brought pastries and chocolates, and yes indeed, my place remains a bad place for a diet.
Wishing a Happy Belated Mardi Gras to My Krewe, I Remain,
Vonn Scott Bair