I have to get politics out of my head for a little while because I am seriously, genuinely fearful of what is taking place in Washington at breakneck speed. So, I think I'll focus on family fun laced with a titch of debauchery -- Mardi Gras in the CBD (Central Business District) and French Quarter!
We started our Mardi Gras morning early with the Krewe of Eggs at L'il Dizzy's at the Whitney with fun, frolic, and fabulous food. The Royal Rooster XIX and his Loyal Hen (Pepper and I were #XVIII last year, "Live or Let Fry!") entertained and feted our group of 70+ in royal barnyard fashion, a la Dr. Suess: The Not-So-Mystic Krewe of Eggs Presents A Celebration of Green Eggs and Ham! (Yep, the scrambled eggs and omelets were green!!) We all wore red-and-white striped Cat in the Hat hats and we were lei-ed with beads sporting eggs with green yolks and rubber piggies. The Royal Proclamation's closing paragraph decreed: "[All] members of the Flock shall enjoy themselves to the fullest. They shall avail themselves the pleasures of the coop, embracing friendship, fellowship, and alcohol as warranted. I further enjoin thee to add to the legacy and good name of this worthy Krewe by not exposing what no one wants to see. Leave no stone (or glass) unturned, no bead unclenched, and let there be no doubt which Krewe possesses the most Joie de Vivre rooster for rooster and hen for hen than any other!"
We then flew the coop down the block to watch Zulu and Rex parade down St. Charles, past Gallier Hall, and toward Canal, from the second-floor balcony of the Parc St. Charles Hotel. More food, more mimosas, and beads, beads, beads! Thanks to the Lupo family and Marine Forces Reserve!
Next on the agenda -- trying to figure out how the heck to get around the parade barricades so we could get to our friends' houses in the downriver side of the Quarter -- an adventure worthy of its own tale! Suffice it to say that we made it. Bobbie and David's light and airy, whimsically decorated shotgun house sits one block off Bourbon, on a street where many of the costumed participants in the gay St. Ann's parade cut through, so we got quite a view! Not all of the costumes were "family friendly" so I won't post pictures of them here (picture a young man dressed as a Sperm Bank, clad in little more than a creative jock strap, handing out little plastic King Cake babies! His companion was dressed as a naughty nurse carrying a turkey baster with which she occasionally spanked him. Vivid image, huh?). There were a number of interpretations of "Economic Stimulus Packages" (use your imagination!) and an unexpected number of pirates and Vikings (What's in your wallet?). A group of us sat in the driveway -- David told passersby that we were tired, old Streetwalkers who now had become Streetsitters. Ha. (Do you recognize me?) More food, and daiquiris. And beer. And more food. Whew! Then on to the last stop.
Pat and Greg's home is an exquisitely elegant antebellum building with deep, rich colors and thirteen-foot ceilings, and things were much calmer there -- china, silver service, a breeze wafting in from the second-story balcony. It was a nice "cool-down" from the excitement of Dumaine. But there was yet MORE food and wine. We didn't really need to eat for days afterward!
On the trek back to the car (which did NOT have a ticket on it!), a gaggle of giggling young women skipped past us wearing long sleeves and head scarves. Young muslim women in the French Quarter on Mardi Gras. That juxtaposition of the pure and the absurd kind of sums up New Orleans. It's like nowhere else on Earth. Thank goodness!
"On the trek back to the car (which did NOT have a ticket on it!), a gaggle of giggling young women skipped past us wearing long sleeves and head scarves. Young muslim women in the French Quarter on Mardi Gras."
ReplyDeletePure poetry.
Yep -- poetry in motion.
ReplyDelete