The manner in which we've entered cities has developed significance for me. Leaving Portland was reminiscent of arriving as Bobby and I lugged about 200 lbs of luggage up and down hills. I ran ahead to stall the bus while he made circles, slowly bringing our luggage forward in groups. This seemed to reflect my experience with getting around in Portland as a whole, despite their intricate bus system...work was a 2 hour commute, often in chilly rain, one way.
Entering New Orleans was automatically easier because we were driving my newly re-purchased, salvaged, now-a-bit-banged-up Saturn! Perfect for street parking during Mardis Gras - go ahead and hit it, we don't care!
I digress...entering New Orleans, although in a car, was not exactly easy. Torrential downpour and tornado warnings gave the area a very volatile feel, as if the whole area was unstable and unpredictable.
We were arriving during the height of Mardis Gras, as evident by a bunch of college boys dressed as women standing outside of a bar at the end of our road. Later that night, another group decided to celebrate their drunken manliness with Indian war whoops in a little circle in front of our bead-decorated house.
The next day, my brother and sister-in-law arrived and we headed out the the parades. How do I describe Mardis Gras? The sheer number of people lining the streets excites you, and the feel of party wafts through the air. The freeway heading into the city is backed for miles and beads are found in the most unexpected places...strung on telephone wires, in tree branches, and through rod-iron fences. Celebrating supersedes work, by a LOT, in this town.
We picked our way through the chairs and grills and began walking through the streets, when all of a sudden a tidal wave of vendors, pulling carts with cotton candy or hats and toys, came rushing towards us. I knew something was about to begin when a vendor brushed off little girl trying to purchase a wad of cotton candy in his rush to get away from...something. We found a front row spot (literally, this was so close that I was millimeters from being hit by a spinning baton and cymbal on two different occasions). We waited. A limo flanked by police cars blowing their horns drove through. We waited. More police cars. Waited....then came the police on horses. About eight of them sat for about 10 minutes and when they finally moved, everyone cheered. The parade had begun.
And then the horse pooped directly in front of us. And then, the parade began in earnest.
Our Mardis Gras mission was clear - we, and the people pressing to our right and left, had to warn the parade dancers, musicians, and others passing by. It went pretty well, until we saw the approach of the marching band spanning the length of the road and knew they were doomed. But Mardi Gras goes on, even as the poo got spread and trampled further and further. The noise of the trumpets and drums in your ear; the sparkly costumes of the steppers with their pompom boots, and of-course the bead-laden floats. They probably could solely keep China in business. The amazing part is, how much excitement they can generate in you to want to capture these beautiful shiny brightly colored bead flying through the air, which will serve absolutely NO purpose once you get them home. Not so much the average beads, but every once in a while, they'll throw out special beads...ones with rubber skulls strung through, or grotesquely over-sized ones. These go to the loudest, or closest, or cutest parade-attendees. Most valuable of all, perhaps, are the Zulu parade's coveted painted coconuts. You'll hear people yelling "coconut" or go up to policemen on horses with sacks full of goodies, begging for a coconut. My own moment of glory came when I made eye contact with a floater (person throwing stuff from a float). I maintained the eye contact, knowing that he would throw me the prized non-bead object in his hand if he looked too long (out of guilt, probably). He did, and it was a golden coconut! Seconds after getting it, people cheered and the girl behind me offered to buy it from me. One floater was supposedly willing to trade two Heineken for a coconut. You think I'm being overly-dramatic, but they really suck you in with the noise, decorations, and lights. Bobby and Andy had me so loaded with beads one night that my neck was hurting and I was begging them to stop.
It is fun though.
The other side of Mardis Gras has to be the costumes. On Fat Tuesday, if you're not dressed oddly (and age does not negate this fact) then you will be out-of-place. Anything goes, although down in the French Quarter, the weirder and more creative the better. There wasn't really a theme for costumes...men dress as women, women as fairies...I found Waldo, Obama, A Hooters Girl (man)...it didn't matter.
What perhaps surprised me most was that, although their were lots of publicly open alcoholic drinks, the majority of Mardis Gras really was a family affair. Children played football in the streets and were hoisted on parent's shoulders when the parades began. Family's camped out and grilled all day. Granted, Bourbon Street had a bit of a different feel, but I didn't see one female exposure (at least from the front). Had we stayed out much later than 9 pm on Fat Tuesday, that may have been a different story. Only the partiers with the most endurance or strongest chemical "enhancement" would have lasted through five full days of partying and kept going into that night.
I'm sure they're all fasting for Lent now...
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