I have a friend. I know, shocking. We'll call her Debbie. (She once wore a bonnet and bore a striking likeness to the snack cake empress, so we started calling her "Little Debbie.")
Some years ago, Debbie, her boyfriend, a couple other friends and I went to the Mardi Gras. It was 1990-something. We were young. We had no idea what was in store.... OK, so I suppose we had some idea.
We would stay in Mobile, whose Mardi Gras celebrations, I learned, actually pre-date those in New Orleans by several years. We'd check out the parades in Mobile one day, and drive over to check out the scene in New Orleans another day.
But this is not a Mardi Gras story, per se. It's more of a Little Debbie story -- the friend, not the snack cake. (Though I could discuss Nutty Bars, Oatmeal Creme Pies, and Banana Twins at length.) It's a story I had forgotten about until I was talking about imaginary friends with someone last week. No, not my therapist. Well, not paid therapist anyway.
Debbie is a sweet, sweet person, passive and a bit soft-spoken, which I suppose left her open to our, at times, incessant kidding. She was always talking about these girls -- friends of hers -- that we never saw. So at some point it became sort of a running joke amongst our little group of friends that these girls didn't actually exist and Debbie was just making them up.
Yes, long before Manti Te'o, there was Debbie.
It was in Mobile that the whole imaginary friends thing sort of came to a head.
One of Debbie's "friends" from college lived in Mobile. We'll call her "Alison." Debbie was to call Alison when we got in town and we'd meet up at some point. "Sure we will, Debbie. Whatever you say."
On the drive down, that's all we heard. Then once we arrived, we weren't allowed to make any other plans until we found out when Alison wanted to hang out. At long last, we were going to meet one of Debbie's friends.
She called Alison one afternoon to supposedly set up the rendezvous. I want to say one of us grabbed the phone to see if there was actually a real, live person on the other end, but my memory fails me at this point so I can't be sure.
When Debbie got off the phone, we asked when and where we were supposed to meet her "friend."
"She says she'll just meet us downtown tonight."
In case you've forgotten, it's Mardi Gras. There are several THOUSAND people downtown. Tens of thousands. And we're just supposed to bump into this girl "downtown???"
Needless to say, we never ran into her. And as you might imagine, the teasing grew evermore incessant.
That was back in the days when we were all broke and limber enough to fit 6 or 7 people in one hotel room/two beds. (Well, I'm still broke, but no longer quite so limber.) To Debbie's credit, she did not require us to leave a space in bed for her imaginary friend.
Or make me give her any of my beads for flashing her imaginary boobs.
"When you're alone / And life is making you lonely / You can always go / Downtown..."
Some years ago, Debbie, her boyfriend, a couple other friends and I went to the Mardi Gras. It was 1990-something. We were young. We had no idea what was in store.... OK, so I suppose we had some idea.
We would stay in Mobile, whose Mardi Gras celebrations, I learned, actually pre-date those in New Orleans by several years. We'd check out the parades in Mobile one day, and drive over to check out the scene in New Orleans another day.
But this is not a Mardi Gras story, per se. It's more of a Little Debbie story -- the friend, not the snack cake. (Though I could discuss Nutty Bars, Oatmeal Creme Pies, and Banana Twins at length.) It's a story I had forgotten about until I was talking about imaginary friends with someone last week. No, not my therapist. Well, not paid therapist anyway.
Debbie is a sweet, sweet person, passive and a bit soft-spoken, which I suppose left her open to our, at times, incessant kidding. She was always talking about these girls -- friends of hers -- that we never saw. So at some point it became sort of a running joke amongst our little group of friends that these girls didn't actually exist and Debbie was just making them up.
Yes, long before Manti Te'o, there was Debbie.
It was in Mobile that the whole imaginary friends thing sort of came to a head.
One of Debbie's "friends" from college lived in Mobile. We'll call her "Alison." Debbie was to call Alison when we got in town and we'd meet up at some point. "Sure we will, Debbie. Whatever you say."
On the drive down, that's all we heard. Then once we arrived, we weren't allowed to make any other plans until we found out when Alison wanted to hang out. At long last, we were going to meet one of Debbie's friends.
She called Alison one afternoon to supposedly set up the rendezvous. I want to say one of us grabbed the phone to see if there was actually a real, live person on the other end, but my memory fails me at this point so I can't be sure.
When Debbie got off the phone, we asked when and where we were supposed to meet her "friend."
"She says she'll just meet us downtown tonight."
In case you've forgotten, it's Mardi Gras. There are several THOUSAND people downtown. Tens of thousands. And we're just supposed to bump into this girl "downtown???"
Needless to say, we never ran into her. And as you might imagine, the teasing grew evermore incessant.
That was back in the days when we were all broke and limber enough to fit 6 or 7 people in one hotel room/two beds. (Well, I'm still broke, but no longer quite so limber.) To Debbie's credit, she did not require us to leave a space in bed for her imaginary friend.
Or make me give her any of my beads for flashing her imaginary boobs.
"When you're alone / And life is making you lonely / You can always go / Downtown..."
