Chapter 15: Turbulent Oceans of Flesh

“Welcome, one and all, to the Sexy Scandal Spectacular — the fastest-growing men’s entertainment franchise in the world! Why, you might ask, do we deserve to be called that? What does it actually mean? I’ll have all you skeptics out there know it’s a hard, empirical measurement — that is to say, we make men grow harder faster than any competing show, and we’re entertaining when we do it! Come on, you all know what I’m talking about — and after Monday you all know it’s true too!”

The crowd cheers and applauds Livia’s intro. Our first Decan is starting off great. We scan the crowd and see lots of familiar faces from the Monday show. Livia’s in a real tux this time; it’s a rental since I did a number on her wardrobe and we’ve been too busy to shop. That’s going to be fun, in the Florida sun, but she’ll cope. It’s a more overcast day today, anyway. I’m in a light tan Arabian outfit, with a stylish button-up vest-shirt, separate silk flair-sleeves and silk balloon pants. It’s very Thousand and One Nights. The scratch on my chest is healed, and with the tux and a slight bit of concealer none of Livia’s beloved bruises are even slightly visible.

Mimi’s in her maintenance coveralls — at least, on the surface — and has a wig on that puts her hair in a ponytail, along with a thin, stern set of fake nerd-glasses. She looks dowdy but professional and smart, and that’s very much by design. “You know, I see so many familiar faces in the crowd. I’m so glad you’ve all decided to come back and give us a second chance, after the debacle that was the ending of our last show! That was ... boy howdy, that one went a wee mite spare at the tail end. I know, ‘cause I can still feel the soreness in my own tail end! But today is going to go a lot better, and boy howdy do we have a show for you! Let’s get the party started!”

Livia gets a big cheer. There’s a lot of girls in the crowd. Still more boys, but it’s maybe a third girls rather than the more typical fifth. And while there’s a lot of everyday girls, there’s also a lot of insanely hot, brazen ones wearing the riskiest string bikinis and a healthy layer of tanning oil. Perfect!

“My dudes,” I shout out to the crowd. “If there’s one thing Spring Break is about above all the others, it’s gotta be the babes! Am I right? Give me a ‘hell yeah’!”

“Hell yeah!”

I’m surprised by the number of girls that shout back for that line — I guess they’re just enthusiastic, or into me. I don’t know.

“But there’s another key element to the full experience, and that’s the brew! So I wanna ask you all, what’s your poison of choice?”

Mimi goes around the front row with a mike, getting answers. The impromptu survey takes several minutes, and gives Livia and I time to get props — a table, a bunch of shots and a complex electronic control panel — set up on stage. As Mimi does the survey, we also watch our stealthy ringer — one of the Gold Coast meter maids (obviously not dressed as such) — circulate the crowd, and note the people she signals us to note. It’s about to be important.

Beer is, unsurprisingly, the crowd’s favorite drink. Lots of guys say Miller, likely more because there are two fifteen-foot tall inflatable Miller Beer bottles anchored to palm trees by the stage than out of any genuine preference. Budweiser is also popular, and maybe I’m just sex-obsessed but I put that down to the iconic Budweiser one-piece swimsuit and the many hot girls I’ve seem wearing this delightful garment around Spring Break — both in posters and live. The NCSS shoot for Budweiser may also have been an influence, obviously. The girls are more sophisticated in their tastes than the guys — we hear rum, vodka, sherry, brandy, gin and tonic along with the typical beers. No one mentions the one we’re thinking of, however.

Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a weird routine for Livia and I to be doing. I drink socially, but quite lightly. I’m a sensualist, and if there are four things I value above all they would be suaveness, sensory acuity, memory and sexual performance. Alcohol spoils all four, and I don’t need it to lower my inhibitions or raise my confidence — I have the next-level toolset for that. Livia enjoys a beer on occasion, but not around shows and not when she’s on the prowl. I believe her favorites are German imports. Mimi’s actually the heaviest drinker among us, with her vodka martinis at noon. I gather she used to drink more — even destructively — before she got into bimboification to relieve stress.

So none of us are really as into frat drinking culture as we’re trying to pretend to be here — as a fellow libertine of a different flavor, I can respect them, but it’s just not my scene. As a result, on rewatching the tapes, it’s a bit wince-inducing. But it’s really just a promotion combined with a lead-in to a stripping gag, so it’s not too bad.

“You know,” Livia banters to me as Mimi collects survey results, “they’re not disconnected. You need the right brew to get the babes. Something that screams sensual but refined — a man of complex tastes. If you offer a classy girl a cheap, watered down pseudo-beer, she’ll dump you faster and smoother than Al Czervik on horse laxatives at an all-you-can-eat taco buffet! As Mister Knight once told me, seduction may be fun, but liquor is quicker...”

“I said no such thing!” I shoot back archly.

“Really? I seem to recall —”

“I think you misunderstood me. What I said was, if you want to pick up hot babes on the beach in record time, make sure you bring a six pack!”

I tear open my Arabian-styled vest-shirt, leaving my torso exposed, and flex my abs a bit — carefully looking both pompous-ridiculous and actually sexy. The girls need to drool, but the guys need to keep viewing me as a role model-slash-mentor-slash-entertaining dork they can mock — not resent me, or want to tear me down as competition. I think it works — the girls cheer and squeal while the guys groan. Some bodybuilder types with builds more impressive than mine seem pleased, no doubt planning to mack on muscle-crazed fangirls in the crowd after our show. Livia runs a splayed hand over my torso sensually. “Ooh, I understand now ... and I appreciate the lookie-lookie! Still, I stand by my point — if you want to charm a classy lady, you need to offer her a drink that’s on her level, so to speak.”

“Speaking of less-than-classy drinks, have I ever told you I know a girl that once got hooked on drinking brake fluid?”

“Really?”

“Well, she would never admit she was an addict — she always said she could stop any time she wanted!”

Livia groans. “Blokes and birdies alike, you need to aim higher than that — improve your taste in spirits and jokes alike! And speaking of sophisticated spirits ... gentlemen, meet your new poison.”

With a Vanna White gesture, she holds up a sleek, elite-looking bottle with a black and gold label. On cue, I hit a switch on the control panel and our Huey Lewis sample plays: “I want a new drug, one that won’t make me sick! One that won’t make me crash my car, or make me feel three feet thick!”

The soundbite stops as soon as it’s made its point, and Livia continues. “Folks, this is genuine, high-quality Black Leopard Tequila, shipped in from across the border where it’s made, in scenic Jalisco. It is the finest, smoothest Tequila to be found anywhere, and it’s available right now, today, in Fort Lauderdale.”

Black Leopard is an insurgent brand now. They’ll be better known in the future, probably largely due to us, but aren’t the top of the line or the best reviewed even when I write this. I hope you’re not expecting me to actually review the drink, given what I just told you. I’m not honestly sure if we’re selling a quality brand or complete cat piss. I do know that we blow them up, and we get a very lucrative cheque out of the deal, and I’m still getting residual payments from our later contracts with Black Leopard even today.

“Now,” Livia continues with the script, “I’m wondering if there’s a particular set of words that comes to mind when you think of tequila and the Sexy Scandal Spectacular. Anyone out there in the crowd know what I’m talking about? Anyone? Bueller? Come on, some of you must have heard this one before! Yeah, I’m seeing the sly smiles on some of the guys faces and playful resignation from a few ladies in the crowd. Folks, if you know what I’m talking about, get ready to belt it out with me! On a one, on a two, and three...”

The three of us, and about a dozen audience members, shout in unison, “Tequila makes her clothes fall off!”

“Again!”

“Tequila makes her clothes fall off!”

“And, once more with feeling!”

“Tequila makes her clothes fall off!”

After the cheers die down, Livia gives an innocent smile and asks the audience, “Anyone want to put that to the test?”

The crowd, obviously, gives that a big cheer.

“Okay,” Livia says. “It probably doesn’t work on every girl ... but I’ll bet it’s going to work on some of you here today. So ... we’ve got some free shots to give out. I’d warn anyone in the crowd that’s overly modest, Evangelical or otherwise a boring, no-fun type not to take one. Mimi here is going to help deliver these shots in...”

Livia looks up at Mimi and her expression and enthusiasm just kind of dies. “No, no. I’m not feeling this. I’m sorry, folks, we just don’t have the vibe I need for this routine. Mimi, get up here! Now!”

Mimi walks up on stage next to Livia, so the two of them are in front of the crowd and I’m alone at the control panel. It’s impossible to make Mimi look flat-chested, but she’s also not filling out the coveralls the way you might imagine (or even the way she did on Monday) — she actually has her breasts bound at the moment, not that the audience knows that. “Folks,” Livia says, “do you see the problem here? Do you see the one thing that’s harshing the vibe of our radical Spring Break blowout?”

The crowd seems baffled. Mimi has her hands behind her back, looking attentive, smart and professional. “It’s you, Mimi. You’re a wonderful techie, but you’re ... low-energy. We need sexy! We need mouth-watering! We need fun! We need an awesome, Spring Break-ready party girl!”

Mimi quirks a skeptical eyebrow at Livia, looking like Mister Spock from Star Trek.

“Folks, it’s makeover time!”

That gets more of a cheer from the girls than the boys. “And,” she adds, “have I got the perfect weapon for our makeover. Let me introduce you all to the final boss of the party girl drinking regimen: the pink grapefruit psychotronic Leopard Tequila shot!”

Now, this may not sound too impressive when I write it in words, but we have ringers in the crowd to go berserk at this exact line, to help us “sell the prop”, and they trigger a veritable tidal wave. By the time the noise dies down, the audience is absolutely 100% dead-set certain that Livia is showing them the most awesome thing that ever existed. She opens an ornate black obsidian box to reveal a row of six shot glasses filled with a fluid so pink you could swear it’s glowing. (It is, actually — high-intensity LEDs under the shot glasses, that shut off the second they are lifted by a pressure switch. Livia just builds stuff like that in her spare time — it relaxes her. It’s the kind of fanatical perfectionism and attention to detail that makes her so very talented, and our show so glamourous.)

“Now, this isn’t just any drink,” Livia continues. “This has rules! You do not fuck around with these shots. I can’t give you the recipe, but I can give you a few hints! Half an ounce pink grapefruit juice! Half an ounce Black Leopard Tequila! Two cc’s Anamorphazine! A dash of chili powder, a dash of sugar, a dash of ergot fungus and a drop of the Tincture! And, well, some additives that I’m not legally allowed to mention because I don’t want the BATF investigating our show!”

That’s a joke, obviously, but the crowd doesn’t laugh — we’ve done such a good job selling the prop that I worry about people trying the recipe at home. Fortunately, everything not everyday that Livia listed is just made-up bullshit.

“This drink,” Livia continues, “well, ladies, it has ... effects. One shot and you’re going to have a really great evening. Two shots and you’ll have an even better evening, a diminished IQ and a more receptive attitude to anal sex. Three shots get adult women to declare Jem and the Holograms their favorite TV series ever, and make them feel like the Disney Princesses of the orgy. Four shots are the beginning of a lifelong love affair with a color pink. Five will halve your SAT scores across the board, and get you a lucrative career in modeling. Six shots ... I’m not going to mince words here; if you can take six shots and stay standing, you’re a bimbo for life. Capiche?”

I’m not actually sure how much the crowd ‘gets’ this. It’s a funny, entertaining and weird rant, but unless a watcher is informed about the nature of bimboification as a fetish it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But it makes Mimi really happy, and that’s worth it.

“Ooh,” Mimi says and reaches toward the first shot. Livia slaps her hand.

“First of all,” Livia says, “lose these.”

She plucks the glasses off Mimi’s face and tosses them into the crowd, then takes out a contact lens case. Mimi, looking exasperated, mimes inserting contacts into her eyes. There are none, of course — she doesn’t need either glasses or contacts.

“Knight!” Livia shouts. “Gimme something bubbly to set the mood. It’s time we show this girl how to par-tay!”

I cue up Julie Brown’s Cause I’m a Blonde. Really, what other song were you expecting?

With a gesture, Livia conjures a telescoping baton. It’s very similar to the ones dancers use, with a trailing banner. The banner is actually fairly large, however, despite being very light — about a yard and a half by two yards. Livia’s going to wave it in front of Mimi to conceal her as her clothes change “magically”. Yup, this is a quick change routine. If you don’t know what these are, you owe it to yourself to actually see one — live or on VHS. Mimi’s is astounding, but you should have seen others first to “get” it.

Being familiar with them also makes watching Mimi’s a lot more rewarding. These routines take a lot of skill, but they are also one of the sexiest types of shows a “respectable” female magician can do, and a lot of the women who do them ... well, by the time they’re finished you’re going to respect their skill a lot, and also really want to see them naked. And Mimi ... well, she has a little treat for the male audience.

If you don’t know how quick change is done, basically, it’s about having multiple layers of tearaway clothing on, and packed away into odd places. I already related how Livia uses 20th Century Silk to pack a whole brassiere into a knot in a silk scarf, right? Well, this routine has whole dresses packed into bras, and inside other dresses, and so forth. People love this bit with Mimi, and the only time we’ll it again is at our big Vegas show more than two years from now. Here’s the reason: it’s hard. It’s impressive, and I think Mimi and Livia carry it off perfectly, but it takes a lot of work. The clothing props are hand-made and usually single-use, and it takes a lot of rehearsals, a lot of agility and a fair bit of natural skill. But it’s worth it for this show, and for Vegas.

I am very low-key during this routine. Livia and Mimi are grabbing all the audience attention while I’m in the background — classic misdirection. I do need to do a few subtle things without being noticed to carry off the routine, both at the control panel and otherwise. It’s enough to make me nervous, but we rehearsed a lot. I’m not going to spoil the magic by saying anything more than that about my role, however.

As you can probably guess, Mimi takes a shot, then Livia waves the banner in front of her and a second later she’s in a new costume. Julie Brown’s song is just over two minutes, so that means one second for each change — seriously, it’s fast — and then nineteen for her to act flummoxed by the early changes, then increasingly vapid and sensual in the later ones. I won’t try to claim Julie Brown’s music video wasn’t an inspiration here, but there’s also a less mainstream source people often miss — the routine is a live-action homage to line art sketches we saw some slumming comic book pencillers selling at SexCon, showing smart girls transforming into stereotypical bimbos in six gradual changes.

I admit to a feeling of ambivalence here — such a profound display of skill (and, yes, intelligence) here on Mimi’s part, all focused around building up her fetish appeal as a dumb blonde. It’s simultaneously ironic, comedic, perverse in the non-sexual sense and oddly tragic. She’s ridiculously happy with the process, though, and feels fulfilled by it — and that’s the only criteria I find valid in judging any kind of fetish-play.

The first costume change is intentionally haphazard. It’s a sexified version of the coveralls — actually a separate costume underneath, obviously — that is tight and latex-like, with triangular patches cut out and replaced with translucent pink lycra. Mimi also has her “hair” (first wig) down and tangled for this rather than in a ponytail — and the unkempt hair does make her look a lot hotter and more sensual, even if it’s a wig. She struts about the stage looking demure-sexy and gaining confidence, then knocks back her second shot in one gulp.

The next change is to a low-cut Disney Princess ballroom gown in thin lavender silk — or, at least, as much of one as we could fit under two pairs of coveralls. It snaps out in an instant, unfolding unseen behind Livia’s banner on a complex but lightweight mechanical skeleton like a folding umbrella. She flounces about and twirls the rim, acting innocent while quite intentionally giving the horny audience some breath-taking views right down her impossibly deep cleavage.

Her breasts look decidedly larger than they did in the first two outfits, and that’s not only an optical illusion. She has a little radio-controlled spool on her back that gradually unwinds the stretchy cloth binding her massive chest, thus creating the illusion that her boobies are growing larger with every shot she takes. Wanna guess who’s controlling that spool? I’m literally moving a slider to enlarge Mimi’s chest. I’d love to tell you, O Bemused Reader, how pervy it is — but honestly I’m just focused on doing my job and getting the timing right. Rewatching it on tape definitely gives me a tingle, though.

Next is a sexed-up “student fashionista” ensemble with a polka dot miniskirt, big plastic sunglasses and a pink leather top. Mimi gives a very cute hiccup after downing the requisite shot, then struts and jiggles about the stage, miming talking on the phone and trading mock-gossip with girls in the audience. When the banners obscure her briefly, she slides the top, miniskirt and boobie-binder off in a single practiced gesture. From here it’s a super-slutty student stripper outfit — pink jeans shorts and a thin, strappy pink tank top. Well, it’s thin around the breasts, at least — nobody pays attention to the belly part, where the final outfit is packed in. It’s pretty racy, and Mimi’s now-fully-unbound chest only makes it better. She flirts, blushes and blows kisses to the audience. People look awestruck — the Spring Break crowd is mostly not stage magic aficionados, and thus the quick change routine is completely new to them.

Both student outfits have Mimi’s iconic high-volume, fluffy Loni Anderson blonde hair, but it’s a bit restrained (by a nearly invisible hair net) on the third change, so it looks like her hair as well as her chest is getting bigger with each change. Folks, getting high-volume hair under a wig is not easy. Quick change is not new ground for magicians, but the hair ... that took effort to get right, but I think the visual is worth it. It helps that, where the fashionista was just perplexed, the stripper-ingenue is cheerfully, vacuously horny. And then the fifth change...

Folks, Mimi takes the fifth shot, Livia waves the banner, the song hits the “this was my audition” line and we treat the crowd at Summers to some absolutely mouth-watering full-frontal nudity from Mimi. She has a stunned look on her face, and for added ridiculousness has a pink lacy bra stuck in her damn hair. The strappy top is pulled down over her waist to expose both tits and bush. And, in case you’re wondering if she’s holding anything back in this bit — her pose leaves her legs about a foot apart, and we all get a nice clear look at her cute golden bush. My first and only look to date, as a matter of fact, and definitely a memorable one.

Mimi “freezes” for a perfect two seconds with a wide-eyed “oopsie, did I do that” look on her face, just long enough for everyone to get a heart-stopping eyeful of her — then her splayed arms snap over her breasts and cooch in the classic embarrassed lady pose. Meanwhile, Livia smirks, flashing the audience an absolutely diabolical, lecherous grin that says “no, guys, this was not an accident — I set it all up, just for you!”

Of course, the real inside joke is that she didn’t — she set it up for a beautiful classy lady who loves her a lot, and has worked so hard for her show, and really likes both bimboification and exhibitionism.

Anyway, Mimi snatches the sixth shot and gulps it down, and Livia flashes the banner over her again and reveals her in her final costume, which will become her iconic look (when she’s not being our character actor, at least) for the rest of the Trips’ run. It’s hard to describe, but the best I can do is to call it a pink and purple V-cut latex onesie. It looks vaguely like clubwear, or what a very girly fetishist would wear to an aerobics studio, and the sheer purple stockings don’t exactly shake that impression. It’s got a deeply sloped V neckline, nearly down to her pubic hair, like a slingshot bikini. It’s got stylized heart-shapes over her immense breasts, with the inner hearts being faintly translucent. It’s got a ruby-studded waistband.

It is so inconceivably, overwhelmingly tacky as to pass into and through the realm of parody and right back out the other side. The matching wave-print triangle earrings are the final touch. The only thing that changes is the footwear — Mimi, against both my and Livia’s advice, wears high heels today (later, after the quick-change routine) to complete the bimbo look. She never makes that particular mistake again, though.

A lot of labor was put into this costume, with the girls seeking out specific items on shopping trips (one of which ended with me bailing them out of mall security in Jacksonville after a misjudged public tryst). Mimi designed it, Livia put in a lot of the handicrafts and I tracked down some needed materials. It dipped into my donations to the kitty, but even I have to admit that Livia had planned out a very glamourous, memorable and cinematic routine to debut it that will be worth it for the show in the long run. It’s an extended tribute to Mimi’s bimboification fetish, sure, but it’s also an entertaining bit in its own right, and hits a few of my own “unwrapping the girl next door” buttons. Of course, more than anything it’s just a jaw-dropping series of magic tricks.

So, now, Mimi has a bimbo origin story inside the weird internal mythology of the Sexy Scandal Spectacular. It’s like a superhero origin story (complete with a kind of super-serum!), except, you know, for a bimbo. She’s ... tremendously pleased with this, in the moment and in the longer term. It’s a high point of the Trips experience for her.

The crowd is going nuts. I expected Mimi’s outfit to get a cheer from the guys, but I was more surprised by how enthused — perhaps even to a faintly scary degree — many of the ladies in the audience are. When we go back and review the footage, we find that all the ladies that go extra-hyper over Mimi’s bimbo transformation routine are the returning crowd from the first show. That’s actually worth some analysis.

First, a confession: I saw an opportunity to ensnare Livia, and I wanted Livia — honestly, I yearned for her, and for what the seduction represented — so I just took my shot when I saw the opening. I wasn’t thinking about her long speeches about how the Trips already have the guys and need the women. If I had been, I would have thought that dropping aphrodisiac-enhanced hardcore sex into the show would likely have been really alienating to the female audience. (I probably would have still done it anyway, though — because, well, Livia.) I even remember quipping during the drive back to our hotel after that show, “Hey, remember back when we wanted to make the show more appealing to women?”

At the time, everyone laughed, because it seemed so unlikely as to be absurd that the third Decan would draw in mainstream girls. But it looks like that may not have been the case.

Here’s my theory. I’m going to sound vain saying this, but the first Decan gave the female audience some eye candy. Sure, it was very male fantasy oriented, but it’s Spring Break — the girls here are not going to be offended by male fantasies, even if they’re not exactly turned on. But then, suddenly ... cock! And it’s nice cock — not porn star jumbo cock that makes normal girls think sex is about pain, but certainly a notch above the average. And I’ve talked about why that isn’t a common sight in Lauderdale. Now, I know girls aren’t as visual as guys ... but it must still have got their attention. We made it all safe for the guys with the male fantasy element, the naked oiled girl-pile, so they didn’t instantly kill the vibe and send the message that this was gross and how dare you and so forth. But it was still there, and it got the ladies’ attention.

Then, the “Make Her Blush” contest. That worked a lot. We know that it worked for the girls on stage, we set it up that way, but it worked for the audience as well. How much? Well, let’s just say that when we go back though the footage of the crowds, we could see a lot of girls subtly grinding in their chairs, or with one hand quietly tucked in their pants, as the narration got to the spiciest bits. I’m not talking about exhibitionist flaunting by the showiest girls in bikinis, either — I’m talking about the quieter girls in the crowd, who had neither any overt nor repressed desire to be caught masturbating in public — and yet, were doing exactly that because they were so affected by the contest. So, the girls were in a really randy headspace at the end of the second Decan.

Enter the third Decan. Livia could probably have gotten some lesbian action out of the massage routine ... but most girls in the crowd weren’t lesbians, obviously, and the majority weren’t even into girls at all. I think by selfishly derailing the show I actually perfected it. Sure, a few of the girls might have been disturbed and alienated by what they saw happen to Livia on stage. Sure, if we had done a cold open with that most women would likely react negatively. But in the context of already being deeply randy from the second Decan ... well, let’s just say the word “ravish” wasn’t coined for fiction aimed at men.

I think many girls in the audience not only wanted to be in Livia’s shoes — not just when I fucked her, but when I passed her through the audience — but wanted that harder than they had ever wanted anything before. I think we awakened some kind of primal fire there, and brought the girls back to see Mimi’s transformation as erotic rather than degrading. It was this second show that will really cement our female following, as you’ll see, but the groundwork is already there.

Mimi struts the stage a few times in her new costume, collecting applause, then goes over to the control panel, bumps me out and sits down. That’s good — the next bit is going to be technical, more than it looks on the surface. I’m glad to have her at the controls! I rejoin Livia at the front of the stage as she works the crowd.

“Okay, folks, with that little makeover out of the way, we’ve got a theory to test and we’re gonna need some volunteers of the cute, female persuasion from the audience — ladies, who’s interested in a free tequila shot? Not the pink stuff, although this is still gonna be pretty wild! C’mon, birdies, it’s Spring Break. We all came here to do things we expect to regret, even if we’ll all just forget to actually regret them later. So get your pert little tushies up here on stage and we can get on with the sexy, sexy mistakes!”

We get ... a quite shocking number of hands, but I have no doubt who the first mark is going to be. She’s a tall, lanky and buxom blonde with long, straight hair. She’s standing out in the crowd by virtue of literally sitting on what I’m guessing is her boyfriend’s shoulders. She’s got a wonderful tan, a firm midriff glistening with tanning oil and a pair of well-oiled voluptuous breasts squeezed into a strapless cyan bandeau-style bikini top that might just be a size too small to produce some astounding cleavage.

I point to her. She points at herself, confirming that I’m choosing her. I nod. She cheers, throwing her arms up and waving widely back and forth. Mimi hits some switches and the wrapped box on stage explodes in a shower of glitter as something flies out of it. It’s a little RC helicopter with a test tube dangling from its bottom. It looks sleek, painted in our colors — white with navy and orange highlights. The crowd cheers, impressed by the gee-whiz factor of our latest toy.