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March 5, 2006
You will see the Zulu king...
Ain't no place to pee on Mardi Gras Day
Ain't no place to pee on Mardi Gras Day
No matter what you say
No matter what you pay
Ain't no place to pee on Mardi Gras Day
Stuff about Mardi Gras this year that was as good or better than years past:
Everybody agrees that this Mardi Gras felt like the good old days, like the Carnival season as it was before the 80's when it started being overwhelmed by tourists. The family vibe up on the Avenue was tremendous. People barbecued, kids watched the parades on ladders, people shared beads and joked with total strangers. It was splendiferous. It was like a giant reunion, a huge homecoming party.
The throws were spectacular. Cassidy got two (two!) Zulu coconuts at her very first Zulu parade. Liam caught four spears. Even traditionally stingy krewes like Iris were throwing gobs of stuff. On Saturday the air was so thick with beads that nobody was bothering to pick any up off the ground. If you didn't make a fair catch, you didn't even bother to bend over because it was more lucrative to just watch for the next bundle to be thrown, and the ground was so littered with beads that it was dangerous footing if you had a kid on your shoulder.
Somebody came up with the brilliant idea of packaging beads in these non-disposable bags with zippers on them, so when the bag was empty, it became a valuable throw itself. We brought our entire haul home in these bags. How cool is that?
We didn't make it to the Quarter on Fat Tuesday, but Uptown was still thick with people masking, and most of the costumes were political humor. Granted, Katrina has made for a target-rich environment in that respect.
And racial harmony. There was a definite lack of muttered comments from the white folks about "the bruthas" or "that element" or how "dark" the Claiborne side of St. Charles is. And the mostly black crowd down around Melpomene was just as sweet as can be. It was a big frickin' love fest. It was just...different. I can't describe it. And I hope it lasts.
And if I hear another idiot say something stupid about how New Orleans is a whiter city now, or how Mardi Gras was just for the white people, I'm gonna put a boot up their white ass.
But a few thing about Mardi Gras that were different and sad:
Some parades were short. The truck parades after Rex were really short. Mid-City was only about three floats long, with no bands (this from a krewe that was once renowned for having the best marching bands).
The bands that were there fucking rocked. But a lot of them were from out of town. The legendary bands of St. Augustine, St, Mary's, and Xavier Prep combined to form a single group called the MAX band, which was clearly the biggest hit of the season. All of the schools of St. Bernard parish combined to form one small band, and they got the kind of respectful teary-eyed applause that's usually reserved for WWII vets. St. Bernard doesn't exist any more. Every damn one of those kids is homeless, and still, they represented.
Restaurants were hard to come by, or packed, or closed without warning. You couldn't just go to a place away from the parade routes, because the only parts of New Orleans with functioning restaurants are the parts of New Orleans with parades. We went by Drago's on Saturday when Endymion was rained out, and it was just closed, with no explanation, even though it reopened back in November. We ended up at Franky & Johnny's along with about a thousand other people. Monday we wandered the Quarter looking for a muffaletta, but Central Grocery was closed, Napoleon House closed at 6 (during Mardi Gras!), and we ended up at a strangely deserted Cafe Pontalba.
The saddest thing, though, was the north breeze on Saturday when the cold front came through. Every once in a while, the breeze would carry with it a hint of the smell of Lakeview, Mid-City, Broadmoor, and the other neighborhoods on the lakeward side of the Avenue. And you could still detect "that smell"...the decay, the mold, the rot...the stench of Katrina.
I hear the Mardi Gras Indians were out in force in the Lower 9. We only saw one Indian that day, running by on Melpomene, looking like he was late for the meetup. Head to toe in orange feathers. Later that night I heard a stellar live version of "Indian Red" on WWOZ, and the thought of the Indians defiantly dancing through the wreckage of the Lower 9 singing that song brought me to tears.
We won't bow down
We won't bow down
Down on the ground
Down on the ground
Oh how I love to hear him call my Indian Red
All my pictures are in a flickr set here.
Posted by ray at March 5, 2006 2:31 PM | Permalink
Categories: [family | food | new orleans ]
Comments
Wow, great pix, Ray! Can Raysa and I get a copy of the one you took of us?
I'll put mine up soon, Half of them--the ones with the damage shots--we had someone burn to disk for us, but we can't seem to access the pix on the disk so I have to get creative....
See you on Wednesday!
Robin
P.S. Take a look at THIS:
http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/Movies/03/05/leopold.oscar.blog/index.html
Todd Leopold got a haircut! I didn't know he was a CNNer.
Posted by: Robin at March 5, 2006 3:15 PM
I'm so glad you guys had a great time!!
Posted by: Trance at March 5, 2006 4:48 PM
Beautiful times, Ray. Love the Zulu coconuts (and the orange slippers, too!). It'll come back, maybe not the same, but it'll come back :)
Posted by: Darkneuro at March 7, 2006 9:17 PM
I haven't explored all the photos and comments yet, but must officially declare that I have never seen so much shiny stuff on you before (Willy Ray Wonka)! Wow. Is it really you?
Posted by: Kristi at March 7, 2006 9:23 PM
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