and onions and spices — slightly different at each stand but still always with that prevalent scent underneath. Duck was getting its due in those pots. A gentleman from one booth came up to me with a tissue, which he quickly and quietly tucked into
“You stick out like a sore thumb, but that’s okay. You look like a box of Crayons. That’s good.” He pulled away the thing against my chest and pulled the tissue out of my shirt. “What do you think?” I looked down and saw he’d applied a tie dye peace sign temporary tattoo.
“redneck Mardi Gras” but having experienced Mardi Gras I figured it was a bit too light for that. Or so I thought. I was about three quarters of the way around my survey round, and I got smacked on the butt. I turned around to see a couple of guys laughing. “Oh, she’s a noob!” one of them laughed. I smiled and moved on, thinking it was a random incident. It was not. Over the next couple of hours I’d get smacked numerous times. It seemed like some sort of fraternity rite. But instead of leaving just stinging cheeks, these rascals were leaving stickers. A lot of stickers. And was this frowned upon? Not at all. In fact, many of the local girls (all in the “uniform” of tight jeans, camoflauge shirt or jacket and knee high boots) were showing off their sticker-bedazzled bottoms. I ran into an old friend, Josh Heffington, who had his cell phone out showing off photos from last year’s debacle. Among the many shots were those of random bottoms plastered from one hip to the other with a smattering of stickers. Apparently it’s a source of pride.
Ducks to be prepared for a batch of duck gumbo. my cleavage. I started to issue a protest but he held up a spray gun of water, shot me at the collarbone with it and pressed something to my chest. “This is your first time here, ain’t it?” he asked me. “Sure is.” 20 | Arkansas Wild Fall 2011
I grinned. “That’s pretty good.” “I hope I got it right side up. You have a good time.” Well, it was, interesting. The next booth’s purveyor adorned me with beads. I’d been told upon entering that the event was considered
As the afternoon progressed, smoke hung in the air and the crowd packed out. There were even crowds waiting for use of the portable facilities, housed in a connecting tent, a good three dozen of them in constant use. The hired band started playing in-between updates from the Razorback game. There were lines at the liquor stands (the event is 21 and older only). There were groups of older men and groups of teens chewing the fat and having a good time. In many ways it reminded me of a Jimmy Buffett-haze on a beach. The competition in many ways came second — just a chance to have a booth and make some gumbo while enjoying one hell of a party. It was getting too tight to take many photos on the ground. My photographer managed to talk