He must have been watching while we ate. He must have been listening when I said I wanted a bead necklace.

Because before the man seated at the table behind us got up to leave Bourbon Street Grill as the after-work crowd turned rowdy for Mardi Gras, he handed me one of the nicest bead sets I've ever seen. Three ropes of purple, gold and green twisted together with a neat Corona medallion.

And I didn't have to do anything revealing or unruly for them.

Hardly a word. Just "these are for you." I said thank you. He paused at the door, looking at me. And then he was gone.

Those are the kinds of things that happen on the real Fat Tuesday.

Whimsical oddities that take you by surprise. Among them: Comparing costume jewelry with grown men. Seeing no one's eyes because they are wearing dark sunglasses in the dead of night.

Seeing nothing but beads of red, gold and green. Like being in the center of the "Karma Chameleon" video.

Lora and I tried out the newest Cajun restaurant in Old Town on none other than Fat Tuesday.

And it would be no better occasion for me to try my first catfish.

We ordered the Garden District Dip ($5.95). I ordered the Bourbon St. Catfish served with dinner salad and cornbread ($10.95). Lora ordered the Cajun Chicken Linguini also served with dinner salad and cornbread ($9.95). She had water. I had a Diet Coke ($1.50). We also couldn't resist at least one drink talked up by the waitress - the Hurricane (light and dark rum and orange, pineapple and passion fruit juice and on $3 special that night).

The dinner salad was made with standard veggies. And the dish. The dish was divided in half by the sauces and food - one side of the plate was a red sauce with the rice and cornbread topped over it and the other a cheese-looking sauce in which the large piece of breaded and spicy catfish was set. It's actually described as a grilled large catfish fillet smothered with crawfish etoufee and served over a bed of rice.

It was a spice like I'd never tasted. Like a sweet fish, I described to Lora, but coupled with the right amount of spice.

I managed to finish off almost half of everything even after I told Lora my mouth was on fire from the spiciness of the food.

Lora's dish was served as a large bowl of red pepper linguini with tomato wedges and a Cajun cream sauce topped by sliced chicken, grilled and dry rubbed with Cajun seasoning.

The chicken was cooked well, but wasn't proportioned as well as the linguini, Lora said.

The Hurricanes were served in flattering old-style glasses and almost tasted like smoothies, as Lora described, which absorbed the alcohol taste.

The waitress talked us into the bread pudding ($2.95), which was served artfully with chocolate syrup lining the plate. It was a soft, sweet breading that I'd never tried before.

I'd go back to try lunch entrees like their grilled chicken pita. But fair warning is, there's a lot of food here, as would be expected of the Cajun restaurant. And if you want the whole crawfish in its entirety, it comes with the Jambalaya, we were told.

Searching the crowd for familiar faces, we started to feel like we weren't in Fort Collins. But somewhere else.

The staff started to take away chairs and tables and people started dancing. A parade of men donning layers and layers of colorful beads, as though they were just in from the real Bourbon Street, hooted and hollered their way through the door. The waitress wore a glittery mask.

It seems that Fat Tuesday always boasts something to make it memorable. For me, it will be the generous guy with the cool beads. And the costume crowd. Seeing them converge that evening reminded me of one high noon I spent on Halloween in Vegas at the Luxor blackjack tables where a group of hooting and hollering craps players nearby each donned Puff Daddy costumes.

Lora echoed my thoughts. "For the environment as a bar, I'd give it a 9. I like the excitement in the air and I'd say it feels like Halloween."

Anna Maria Basquez is the arts and entertainment reporter at the Coloradoan. Reach her at 970-224-7847 or by email at AnnaBasquez@coloradoan.com.