Fin

PARADES

One day, I will convince those of you who don't live in NOLA that real Mardi Gras isn't about drunk tourists baring it all for cheap plastic beads on Bourbon Street. It's about drunk locals waving their arms and screaming "heeeeyyyyyyyy" (whilst fully clothed) for cheap plastic beads on St. Charles Avenue. And the marching bands. And the bagpipes. And the floats. And the friends. And all together, that's why we love PARADES. If you need me for the next 12 days, I'll be on the neutral ground at St. Charles and Eighth. PARADES!!!

Nine (Alternate Title: All on a Mardi Gras Day)

Nine.2

Mardi Gras 2012

I'm officially exhausted, after going to 24 out of the 26 parades. God, do I love Mardi Gras. And I know there's lots of discussion out there about people being too territorial on the parade route, but I have to confess, I'm a parade junkie and love getting as close as possible.

How close? Close enough to almost get hit in the face with a tuba by St. Aug, close enough to catch beads from Bret Michaels, and close enough to interact with the flambeaux. I would like to add, however, that no tarps, caution tape, roped-together ladders, parade chairs, or any other barriers were used to make sure I had a good spot. If you want to be up front for all of the action, then you actually need to get there early and be up front.  Nothing makes me crazier than the people who lay 12 ladders down next to each other on the parade route hours ahead of time and then don't actually stand in "their" spot until the parades start rolling.

How to Piss People Off During Mardi Gras

Decide that not only do you need to clearly mark your own space on the parade route on Bacchus Sunday, when most of the Saturday parades are also having to roll, but that you need to do so with a tarp that is clearly a lot larger than the six people in your group need. These people hogged that much space all day long so that their kid could play football during parade breaks.

All on a Mardi Gras Day

It's over. Again. Thank God. Every year, I'm so excited about Mardi Gras arriving that I can't stand it. And every year, by Ash Wednesday, I'm incredibly relieved that it's all over. And exhausted. And tired of purple, green, and gold. This year was no exception, and I think I lost even more brain cells this year than usual. I blame it on being middle-aged. (In dog years, I'm 287.) But it might have had something to do with the fact that I went to every single parade, with the exception of Bacchus & Endymion, which just seemed like too much of a good thing (i.e., an insane amount of people fighting over beads and the neutral ground). And I missed one day parade on the first Saturday. But other than that, I was at Every. Single. Parade.

And now it's over, and I'm glad. And I will start being ready for more parades in about 9 months....

Highlights of this year's season, I think, included running into some acquaintances in the Quarter who invited us to watch Krewe du Vieux from the balcony of a friend of a friend. No one mentioned that said friend's friend owned 18 cats, all of whom were housed inside of her 300 square-foot apartment and apparently used the entire apartment as one giant litter box. I've just about gotten the smell out of my nose. But watching K du V from a balcony (with lots of fresh air) was definitely a new experience. Not quite the same as watching it from the street, but fun anyway. And then afterwards, cat lady pulled out several bead bags overflowing with old beads, so we had fun chucking those to people on the street. At least, it was fun as long as you didn't put the beads too close to your face while throwing (see cat pee, above). I threw to middle-aged men and women and had great fun ignoring the usual 20-somethings who love to lift up their shirts in between bouts of throwing up in the street.

As usual, by Mardi Gras morning, when I was getting up at 6:30 a.m. to get out to St. Charles Avenue, I was pretty much done and questioning my sanity. But after a couple of milk punches, everything seemed much better. And then the Buzzards came by, and I got to say hello to my husband. And then Rex rolled by, and I caught one of the stuffed masked captain throws they gave out this year, and Emmeline was thrilled. And then Kenny got back from marching with the Buzzards and we watched the noisy, excessive, but-the-kids-absolutely-love-them truck parades. And then, on the way to our friends' house for dinner, we ran into some Mardi Gras Indians. And it was, as usual, a perfect Mardi Gras day.

Bieber Fever

My favorite costumed group from Mardi Gras needs no explanation. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Bieber patrol.

03.04.11

It's official. Emmeline is no longer--in any way, shape, or form--a baby. She is a "big girl" of six years old. And has already begun informing me of all of the things she can do now that she's six, repeatedly.

And because I endured 41 weeks of being pregnant during Mardi Gras 2005, she got to reap the rewards this year by having a birthday during Mardi Gras weekend. (The big year will be 2014, when she turns nine on Mardi Gras day.)I'm definitely not complaining, as this made party planning this year a cinch. No horrors of the hidden costs involved in hosting a birthday party at City Park. (Last year, I forgot about the part where we'd have to buy ride bands for the parents, too, as their children weren't old enough to ride anything by themselves. Shudder.) Nope. This year, our party preparation list was considerably shorter. Birthday cake? Check. Beverages, both adult and non-adult? Check. Camera? Check. Parade? Check, check, check.

Not surprisingly, not many of her friends came. I'm guessing it had something to do with the fact that a) the forecast started calling for rain on that day about a week beforehand; b) due to that forecast, Iris and Tucks ended up shuffling around and moving up their parade times; c) it did rain; and d) you couldn't really call it a rain--more of a torrential downpour.

The good news was that the rain held off until about 30 minutes before Iris rolled by us, and it didn't get really, really bad until about 15 minutes before the end of the parade. And then it rained so hard that all of us stood around in it, laughing at how wet we were, and trying to salvage what was left of the cake. And Emmeline had the time of her life.

All in all, it was a birthday to remember. Happy Birthday, pretty girl.

Mardi Gras Through the Years

Okay, I need my daughter to stop growing now. She'll be six on Friday and is very excited that the City is throwing parades in her honor.

2006

2007

Mardi Gras, Take One

All on a Mardi Gras Day

K and the Jefferson City Buzzards, taken from Times-Pic website.

Mama, why is Daddy wearing tights and purple velvet?

Orpheus/Bacchus

Sword fight

Group shot

Throw me something, um, Sidney Torres!?!

Iris/Tucks

E and her friend Beau, enjoying the view from their ladder before the parades start.

Bagpipes!

I love me some Mardi Gras. We did every parade this weekend, with the exception of Endymion. I'm so glad that Endymion has gone back to its Mid-City route--gives me a night to recuperate before Bacchus Sunday, and it's really nice no longer having to to fight huge crowds camped out for Endymion while trying to watch Iris and Tucks.

E had a ball. This is her third Mardi Gras, but it's the first time I think she really got it. Other than a few mishaps with flying beads making contact with her face, she loved every minute of it.

Mardigrr

I've realized with both a sense of amusement and a little bit of wariness that I'm most definitely raising a New Orleans girl. E can dance with the best of them (unlike her pathetic mother) when we go somewhere like Satchmo Fest to see the Soul Rebels, Rebirth, etc. She's right up there shaking her thing and having a grand old time.

I read a post on Dangerblond's website recently, where she was reminiscing about being in elementary school and making miniature Mardi Gras floats. Today, E is wearing a sash to daycare and is campaigning to be queen of their parade, which will be held next week. I was quite proud of myself for making a sash out of a yellow plastic tablecloth and a purple feather boa from the Dollar Store. As K said, neither of us knew I was so crafty.

Needless to say, I didn't grow up learning about Mardi Gras, what the colors purple, green and gold stand for, etc. It's not real high on the priority list in Georgia. So it's funny to listen to my not-yet three-year-old daughter tell me all about what she learned in school about "Mardigrr." (She's still working on the pronunciation.) I'm really getting a kick out of seeing what Mardigrr is all about through her eyes, as well--toys and beads, of course.

Last night, we were playing with her little Fisher Price dollhouse. E piled all of the plastic dolls into the station wagon so they could take a trip. Usually, if you ask her where they're going, she'll tell you to the store. Last night, she informed me that they were going to Mardigrr. So the dolls all rode across the bedroom in their station wagon, then she had them all climb out next to her wicker dresser, which is painted green. As one of the Mardigrr colors was involved, E thought the wicker dresser was a fine place for the dolls to watch and participate in the parade. And then she made them all scream their little heads off, shouting "throw me something." I think they had a good time.

Happy Mardi Gras!

E really enjoyed her first Mardi Gras.


Best signs of the day.

We're Having Mardi Gras

Chris Rose sums it up perfectly:

We're having Mardi Gras, and that's final:

"Mardi Gras is not a parade. Mardi Gras is not girls flashing on French Quarter balconies. Mardi Gras is not an alcoholic binge.

Mardi Gras is...returning to the same street corner, year after year, and standing next to the same people, year after year -- people whose names you may or may not even know but you've watched their kids grow up in this public tableau and when they're not there, you wonder: Where are those guys this year?

It is dressing your dog in a stupid costume and cheering when the marching bands go crazy and clapping and saluting the military bands when they crisply snap to.

Mardi Gras is the love of life. It is the harmonic convergence of our food, our music, our creativity, our eccentricity, our neighborhoods and our joy of living. All at once.
And it doesn't really matter if there are superparades or even any parades at all this year. Because some group of horn players will grab their instruments and they will march Down the Avenue because that's what they do, and I, for one, will follow.

If there are no parades, I'm hitching a boombox to a wagon, putting James Booker on the CD player and pulling my kids Down the Avenue and you're welcome to come along with me and where more than two tribes gather, there is a parade.

We are the parade. We are Mardi Gras."