We've all heard the rumors: women flashing for beads, alcohol everywhere, dirty city streets, bright colors, molestation, southern accents, etc., etc. This past weekend, I hit the Big Easy and had an experience that I like to call "Party Gras 06".
I was skeptical about the celebration at first. I had heard the rumors, and my Californian roommate swore to me that I would hate it and have no fun at all. Mid-last week, I decided to take a chance and go.
My main travel companions were Maggie Buckles and Ashley Madere, my LSU best friend and a band friend who lives outside of New Orleans (respectively). The trip started out rough on Saturday, as we got lost on the way to Tulane University to drop off a couple friends before heading to Ashley's house. The next morning, the three of us left a little late to head over to Stephen Buccola's (a New Orleans native and bandmate) house where the rest of our Mardi Gras group was. Forunately, they were behind schedule as well, but soon enough we were on our way. Ashley parked in a parking garage across from a hospital where Stephen "was born, mother fuckers!" We unloaded the cooler and walked down to St. Charles Street.
We found a spot, and met up with a bunch of Stephen's friends. Maggie and I were quick to run to the front of the crowd and wait for the parades to begin, and Ashley soon joined us. Superior Grill across the street played loud dance music throghout the day, entertaining us between floats and parades. Us girls made a trip down the street to wait in one of three long lines to get something to eat, and returned to the addition of Ryan Moser (very Texan representative) and Georgine Althouse (sophomore from the Garden State) to our group. We all ended up at the front sporadically throughout the night, yelling at the floats for beads, boas, cups, and other cheap trinkets.
As the Endymion Parade ended, we gathered each other and our belongings together and made our way to the garage. Stephen guided us through the streets of uptown New Orleans for a solid two hours, interrupted by his need to relieve himself of his drinking in public and a cry from Paul Napolitano (friend of Stephen's) of "I'm not asleep..." We returned safe and sound to the Madere household and weighed our beads: Ashley with 12 pounds, Maggie with 16, and me with 18. Not bad for a day's work.
The next morning, we slept.
Early Monday afternoon, the girls and I headed to the Buccola's. We were slightly late as there was a parade on Highway 90 in front of us, allowing us to drive at a consistent 20 - 30 miles per hour. Stephen's dad dropped us off (to Ashley's relief) by St. Charles Street. We headed to the same spot as before, and quickly hit the front of the crowd by the street. The two parades of the day were not nearly as exciting as the previous night's, but we still had a good time. We retired to Stephen's house where his father grilled: burgers for everyone, cheese for me. After relaxing and watching the news (brought to us by Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert), we headed out for a good night's sleep.
I awoke on Fat Tuesday at the disturbing hour of six o'clock to be ready and on the road by seven. We were greeted by a newly-awake Stephen at 7:45, and strolled into the living room to the site of a sleeping Ryan and Paul. We were in the Buccola vehicle and on our way for the last time by 8:30.
We walked out to St. Charles and realized how much time there was before the first parade began. Maggie and I decided to stroll down the street and people watch. Apparently, Tuesday is the day to go all out for Mardi Gras. Every third person was dressed up. Among the colorful characters we spotted were a group of nuns, Oompa Loompas, illegal immigrants, and multiple 'chocolate' families (oh, Mayor Nagin). A few unofficial parades were coming through, and some men marching in them gave Mags and I flowers and beads for being ..well, Mags and I! Also, a boy yelled random names at us in an attempt to get us to look his way... twice.
When we arrived back across from Superior Grill, we were more than ready for the real parades. I believe the highlight of the Rex parade was when Maggie and I discovered that they were throwing toy cows, and became set on receiving one each. We went to a float while it was stopped and asked a man politely (and repeatedly) for cows. Somehow, that developed into us mooing for the cows. We were directed to the other end of the float, where we asked and moo'ed some more, but we were successful!
During the truck parades, my body language asking for one cup turned into receiving an entire stack of 35. We continued to dance and yell and have a good time in general until floats stopped coming by. Then we got our things together and spent the time waiting for our ride comparing tan lines, removing beads, and emptying the coolers. We were taken to Magazine Street, on which a friend of Stephen's had an apartment. We sat around there uncomfortably, took a stroll in search of food, came back with empty stomachs, and were picked up before we got too bored.
On the way back to Ashley's, we called and asked her mother to order pizza. Of course, we hit a sick amount of traffic and what should have been a half hour car ride ended up being twice as long. But the moment we walked in the door, we hit the pizza and it was gone in roughly five to ten minutes. Not too long afterwards, we were asleep.
The next afternoon, we were back in Baton Rouge, and last night the pictures were up on Facebook. (Very) Long story short, ignore everything you've heard (unless you're on Bourbon Street!) about Mardi Gras. It reminded me of my adventures to the Warped Tour - a long day in lovely weather with great company. I'm glad I didn't listen to my roommate, as I easily had the best weekend of Spring Semester. We've already started planning out next year.
