Our Past Tents

This is a multi-day trip report, so if you haven’t already started at the beginning please click here to read from Day 1.

And then it was over. It seems amazing that after such a monstrous, weeks-long, city-wide party, the street could be clean and things could be back to what looks like normal so quickly.

I did a few errands, including a stop at Francis’ bakery to get a king cake to take to work on Thursday. I walked in the open front door, between stacks of FedEx boxes. The front room of the bakery is dirty, and tired, and the woman who came up front to meet me looked exhausted. “Do you have any plain king cakes?” I asked. She breathed out, a little short breath, and she leaned on the counter and looked at me over her glasses. “No, honey. We GOT to take a break SOMETIME.”

We really did eat this many Randazzo’s king cakes while we were in town, and they weren’t the small ones. We ate the king cakes, and we have the babies to prove it.

We loaded up the car said our goodbyes. I found one last baby in the last chunk of king cake I ate before we got in the car. We stopped in Amite to visit Grandma Sig and were home by midnight.

This is a multi-day trip report, so if you haven’t already started at the beginning please click here to read from Day 1.

When I got down to Veterans at 6 am, wearing a coat and a jester hat, most of the grass at the edge of the neutral ground was already staked out. Either people had left blue tarps out all night, held down by ratty lawn chairs, or they had stayed out in person to reserve a spot. People in lawn chairs and blankets were everywhere, still trying to doze in the early morning cold.

I walked a couple of blocks before finding a square of unclaimed grass in the neutral ground, but there were some stakes lying on the ground nearby. I texted Bryan “have found a good spot but am unclear about property rights; please advise.”

Some guys walked by across the street, carrying cases of cheap beer and yelling.

“I like your hat!”

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Really, I have no idea.”

“Yeah, man, I’m like that about most things. Happy Mardi Gras!”

Bryan arrived a few minutes later, with a ladder, and we staked out our family’s square of grass with chairs and a ladder. We built a little perimeter with beads left on the ground from the night before, and we waited together until about ten am when his cousins arrived to take over.

Our little square of grass slowly filled with people. Beth and Jeff had arrived with baby Lucy, and even Grandma Schambach and Aunt Dot came out to watch the parades. Our spot was near the end of the parade route, so the Argus parade didn’t reach us until about one in the afternoon.

The bands and marching groups were a little tired-looking. They were near the end of the last parade of the last day of the carnival season, and I think most of them were just ready to be finished. But the floats were still funny and the riders were anxious to get rid of their last toys and beads before the end of the parade.

We got daiquiris from the daiquiri store’s walk-through window. I hadn’t known that “Octane 190” was a FLAVOR.

Mandy enjoyed watching everyone from her perch at the top of her ladder. She’d made a “My First Mardi Gras” sign with posterboard, hoping for more throws, but she quickly abandoned it in favor of a bulls-eye.

Lucy watched the proceedings calmly and with great interest. She seemed to really enjoy all the people and the activity around her.

After the “traditional parade” of the Krewe of Argus had passed, the Jefferson and Elks Jeffersonians truck parades followed, each with about 75 floats. Aunt Dot went home. We caught wads of beads. I managed to get a feather boa for Mandy. Grandma Schambach survived being crashed into by a guy trying to catch a Saints football. Lucy fell asleep. The parades ran together into a sort of colorful, hours-long blur of loud music and screaming people and things flying through the air.

And then the parades were over, and people went home. Bryan and I walked back down to Veterans, which was still closed. The street was empty except for the trash left by the crowds: food wrappers, cans and bottles, plastic bags, and beads were everywhere. It looked as if drunken clowns had exploded in the street. Bryan sat in a folding chair someone had left, and a young man in a toga sat next to him.

Toga Dude: “Whatcha doing?”

Bryan: “Waiting for someone.”

TD: “Yeah, man, me too.”

TD: “Do you see those girls over there? They’re pretty hot, aren’t they?”

B: “They’re cute, I guess.”

TD: “Think we can get a lap dance?”

B:

TD: “HEY, OVER HERE! LAP DANCE! PLEASE!!”

TD: “Hey, man, if want to, lets go right now and get a shot.” (motions to bar across the street)

About this time I came back, and Toga Dude stood up and introduced himself.

TD: “Hey, I’m Ivan. I’ve been friends with him forEVER.”

Toga Dude/Ivan wandered off to warm up in the aforementioned bar while Bryan explains to me what just happened.

This photo was taken near sunset on Veterans Memorial Highway after the Metairie parades on Mardi Gras Day.

And how do they clean up the awful mess? Here’s a time-lapse video of the Last Parade, with a special appearance by Ivan (look for the toga at the 37-38 second mark):

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=9568951&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=0&show_portrait=0&color=00ADEF&fullscreen=1

Here’s the final photo of our Mardi Gras loot, all 145 pounds of it. As always, click on the photo to see it larger.

This is a multi-day trip report, so if you haven’t already started at the beginning please click here to read from Day 1.

The whole bunch of us tried to go to Deanies for lunch, but we were foiled by the hour-and-a-half wait for a table. We had to eat some more fried oysters and garlic fries at New Orleans Hamburger & Seafood instead. Also, Mandy has somehow become addicted to cream soups with crawfish. I’m not sure how that happened.

After a trip to the grocery store, I made a couple of chicken pot pies just on the principle that it’s good to have chicken pot pies around. Mandy sat for a couple of hours and looked at photo albums with Aunt Dot, talking about traveling and listening to stories. In the evening we walked down to Veterans with Kevin and Julie and Emma to see the Zeus parade.

Click on photo to see it bigger.

This is a multi-day trip report, so if you haven’t already started at the beginning please click here to read from Day 1.

There were five parades today on the ‘Uptown parade route‘ but we hung around the house too long to catch them all. We walked into the middle of the Mid-City parade, with shiny floats built with colored aluminum foil. We wandered through the enormous block party that followed, dodging the running kids and the barrage of footballs thrown down the street. We found Rick and Judy and their family and squeezed our chairs in near theirs, across from St. Elizabeth’s Asylum, just before the Thoth parade started.

We’re told that usually the crowd thins in the couple of hours between the day parades and the evening parade, and we hoped that we’d be able to spread out a bit and move closer to the street. But Drew Brees, the Saints’ QB, is this year’s King of Bacchus. The whole city’s turned out to catch a football or a string of beads from his nearly-anointed hands. Even more people pressed themselves into the tiny gaps in the crowd, and the people next to us continued drinking and chain-smoking, and the street was full to bursting by the time the Bacchus parade started at 5:30.

We’re starting to get the hang of the way this is done. I took my turn holding an 80-pound kid on my shoulders to get her closer to the bead-throwers and passers-out-of-toy-spears, but Bryan was much better at it.

We did in fact catch a whole bag of special beads and a stuffed animal from Breesus’ float. The parade went on and on, with beads and cups and stuffed things flying through the air, and people screaming. The local bands shoved us back against the curb. “GET IT BACK, PEOPLE! WATCH OUT FOR THE SWORDS!” I actually overheard one of the big, burly drum boys say very calmly, almost to himself, “I’d knock theah ahms off.”

Police are a constant presence at these parades; I don’t know that there’s been a time at any of them that I haven’t been able to see a policeman. The crowds are loud and pushy but generally much friendlier and more polite than I’d expected. It wasn’t at all unusual for people to catch something and then give it to a child nearby. At one point, two guys crossed the street in the middle of a marching band, and the nearby policeman shoved them hard, pushing them back across the street and into the crowd, delivering a terse lecture about manners.

Then, just a few floats later, in a quiet moment, the same cop looked straight at me and said “Hewwo.” I stared at him, completely baffled, and he added “My name is Elmah Fudd.”

It’s a strange, strange place.

Click to see the photo bigger.