The Culmination of Mardi Gras

Fat Tuesday. The City shuts down-literally. Our office is closed and almost all businesses are closed for the day. I couldn't leave my apartment to come to work even I'd wanted to because all of the streets are closed (one of the disadvantages of living smack in the middle of Uptown).

Some clown woke me up at 6:30 in the morning w/a speaker blaring Mardi Gras Mambo right at my apartment window. Chappy was NOT happy. The Zulu parade started at 8am. That one, I wasn't makin'. No way on God's green earth. They give out really neat, hand-painted coconuts, but I simply could not force myself to rise from the comfort and coolness of my cozy sheets and down-mattress cover. I turned on the news to parade coverage, since, thanks to that ass-hat with the Mardi Gras Mambo, I was now awake. Dozed for another 3 hours and finally crawled out of bed, only because the cats were whining to be fed. Hopped in the shower and called Linda to see where she was planning on being on St Charles for the day's festivities. Began the ritual that is my hair and make-up. Still no word from Linda. Dressed and finally a text message from Linda saying she was on the neutral ground at the corner of Felicity and St Charles. No need to bring anything, just come.

Where she was really wouldn't have been THAT far of a walk, maybe like 2 miles or so, but since I knew I'd be drinking by that time, I didn't want to have to walk that far home, I'd much rather drive.........(come on, that should have at least made you smile a little!). Finally found a corner to park on, and despite the fact I was likely to get ticketed, I parked anyway. Walked over to find Linda and Matilda and their families amidst more people than I've ever seen in my life. Finally get to them and chilled. Beer, lots of food, and crazy folks all surrounded me. My view of the parade was obstructed by two men who should NOT be shirtless-one had a vest made of hair, the other had a bigger beer gut than I do. Oh, and their friend was wearing yellow panties on the outside of black cheerleader shorts and a t-shirt that had something to do with rednecks. What do the panties say, you ask? "Happy Mardi Gras" DEElightful!

Linda and Matilda and their family and friends have to be some of the most hospitable people you'll ever meet. Linda kept pouring beer down my throat, literally handing me beer after beer after beer (that's a GOOD woman!), and Matty kept making sure I'd had more than enough to eat. The spread these folks had-WOW! I was in Heaven. I love soul food something awful, and the food they had?!?!? Make you wanna slap yo momma (and the actually had a can of seasoning called "Slap Yo Momma!" on the table). I ate everything except spaghetti, which was kinda odd for a barbecue. Ribs, chicken, turkey necks boiled w/potatoes and corn, butter beans w/ham hocks and okra, cornbread, and for good measure, I even had a salad. Don't want my cholesterol to get too high! :)

I had to go purchase some sunscreen because with as pale as I am, I burn so easily. The only one annoyance was having children in the tent next to us, despite police warning them to stop, throw those fire cap/popper things and one of them flew up, hit me in the arm and the butt. I was not amused. Unfortunately, 6 or 7 people got shot, one block over from where my street intersects St Charles. It was gang related violence but that still doesn't make it any nicer to hear.

After the parades, I helped the ladies clean up and pack up their car while Matty mixed me some kind of cocktail that had Vodka and Mango in it. Walked back to my car and found, shockingly, that I hadn't been ticketed. Drove home, cleaned up, then down to the Quarter, by myself.....AGAIN, for the balcony party I had an invitation for.

Balcony party fun! I loved tossing beads and didn't see nearly as much skin and acts of lewd behavior that everyone warned me of. In fact, I didn't see any lewd behavior. I did see a guy get arrested by a mounty, though, and that was very entertaining! He slapped a lady cop's horse on the butt, the horse reared, and the lady and horse took off after him, all the while trampling folks in the path. The mountys swarmed and took the guy down. All very amusing. I met some new people and hung out with them for a spell, and I was at home and in bed by 1am. As far as rowdy times go, Mardi Gras day itself was fairly insignificant.

Pics follow, and oh, my hair is STILL pink. If you know of a way to get the color out, please share because I SO don't wanna be pink for another 4 months until it all grows out!


The Aftermath (looking down St. Charles toward my house):





Linda (purple) Matilda(seated) box o' wine (on the table)



The backside of the man and his friend blocking my view:

Me at the end of the night from the balcony party:

More Bacchus Ball Pics

Bacchus Ball Pics

The Krewe of Bacchus Extravaganza

The rest of the week between my first full weekend of parades and the weekend leading into Mardi Gras itself was fairly uneventful. I worked, and worked, and worked until my head was spinning.

Saturday, February 21, 2009, I took in the Krewe of Endymion parade with some of Shaun's friends: Denise and Jean. Met a very cute college sophomore (don't ask me his name because I'd already had a flask of bourbon by the time I met him) from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette in town with his parents and friends. We left the crowd to go up to Jean's office building around the corner to use the bathroom, and somehow a delightful hour got away from us-don't have any idea how THAT happened. I wasn't impressed with the floats anyway so, no harm no foul.

Then Sunday rolled around. The day I'd been waiting for for nearly a week.... Let me rewind and give you the back story: A dear friend that I met through work, who continues to work with me to this day on my client's program (and who also happened to be one of the few people I actually new in this state before I moved here), called the night of Monday, February 16, 2009, with a very exciting invitation. He told me that his father, who is a member of the Krewe of Bacchus and purchases a table at the extravaganza every year, was not able to give out two of the tickets, and he wanted to know if I'd like to attend. My response, albeit much more lady-like, was something to the effect of: HELL YEAH I'd like to go! He had two invitations for me and if I could convince one of my friends to come out, or find a date, they'd be more than welcome to attend as well.

You all realize that I'm very new to this whole experience, but to be invited to go to the Bacchus Ball is such prestigious honor. There are people in New Orleans that try to get into Bacchus every year and never receive an invitation. You can purchase tickets to The Zulu Ball or to the Endymion Ball, but Bacchus is by invitation only and it is one of the MOST elite balls of the whole season. Tuxes and floor-length ball gowns ONLY. Ladies who showed up in tea-length gowns have actually been turned away in the past. The ladies in my office were rather taken aback and amazed when I informed them I'd be attending.

Parties like this (Balls, Cotillions, Formals, etc.) are right in my wheelhouse. I LOVE them. Always have and always will. Any excuse to put on a gorgeous dress, put my hair up, and dance the night away like a princess makes me happy. I bought a gown that Tuesday after my friend extended the tickets. A beautiful gold, buttercream dress, and, since it's Mardi Gras, a lovely royal purple wrap to go over my shoulders. A borrowed clutch and shoes, and I was set for the ball.

Despite my begging of nearly every friend I have, no one could find the time to get out here for the party Sunday night. I asked the ladies in the office if they knew anyone single in the 30-45 age bracket that would like to go as my date. No commitments, nothing special, just a date to the ball. NONE of the women here knew of anyone. How do 12 women not know of a single person who fits the aforementioned description???? How is it possible? It boggles the mind, I tell you.

I slept in on Sunday. Got up and did some running around and came back for a late lunch. My friend called to tell me what the plans were. Knowing full well that the City shuts down 75% of the streets surrounding my house for the Uptown/New Orleans parades, I knew I needed to call a cab around 6:15. I wasn't planning on trying to find a place to park near the Convention Center and THEN have to walk in heels and a ballgown, especially given my propensity to fall.

I called Neo, who had picked me up and taken me home after I missed my first parade down in the Quarter several weeks ago. Neo wasn't working until 8pm, but would call someone to come get me. Excellent. Had more time to get ready and was doing so when said person apparently came by my house at 6:30. Rather than call me to tell me he was at the house to pick me up, because I wasn't standing outside, he left. HE LEFT!!!! Neo called back to make sure I'd been picked-up, and when I told him I hadn't even known the guy was there, he called the guy, called me back and said that the taxi driver had left and could not and would not be back. WTF?!?!?! NOT coming back? How am I supposed to get to the ball NOW??? It's like a bad version of Cinderella.

My friend and his wife couldn't come and get me; their car was valeted and would take at least 45 minutes to be delivered and the two of them were still getting ready. My only choice, after calling every single taxi company in my Uptown phone book, was to call Omar. Recall exactly who Omar is: the cab driver that asked me to be his girlfriend. Yikes. Faced with no other alternative, I called Omar. He was delighted to hear from me, said he would be happy to come and get me, but was on his way to the airport now. He'd call me when he was on his way back.

While I finished up trying to get my hair to stay in position, Omar called and said he was stuck on I-10 at Mid-City and that the roads were completely jammed. He'd be AT LEAST another 45 minutes. Are you kidding me?!?!?! I called my friend who immediately began freaking out. The roads were going to be shut down momentarily and I may not be able to get there at all. The decision was made that I needed to hop in my car with all due haste and get there as soon as I could. Fine. I'd make it work.

At this point, I hadn't put on my dress since I didn't want to sit in it and have it get wrinkled. I slid the zipper down and put the gown on. Moving the zipper up. Uh, oh. Zipper not moving. The zipper on this dress is sewn right into the fabric as a hidden zipper-like in a wedding gown-and is coming up the right side of my rib cage. I'm able to get the zipper to a very precarious location and it won't move any further, no matter what I do. What in the world is gonna happen if I can't get this dress zipped? I don't know any of my neighbors to ask for assistance, and if I have to show up to this ball and ask my friend's WIFE to help me out, I will die of embarrassment. Finally, I make the decision to slide the dress around so the zipper is right smack in front, dead center, slide my arms out of the spaghetti straps, stop breathing, and yank as hard as I can. Tada! Zipper up. Now the tough part: sliding the dress back around and getting my arms back through the straps. I blew out every cubic inch of air I had in my lungs and pulled, and the dress moved. I heard the Hallelujah Chorus in my head!

Out the door, down the steps, into the car, at the Convention Center in 5 minutes. Parking assistance from my tuxedo-clad friend, car parked, into the ball we go with his lovely wife, sisters, mother, and the rest of his family.

The parade through the Convention Center was like none I'd ever witnessed. The Krewe of Bacchus floats are so beautiful, ornate, and incredible, words cannot even describe. I caught a ton of signature float beads and some other remarkably beautiful strands as well. Val Kilmer was the King of Bacchus and he looked so happy up on the King's float! He had a smile from ear to ear. I danced the night away, first with my friend's family, and then with one of the members of the Krewe who happened to ride on the same float as my friend's father. I've never had such a great time, ever! They all left around 1ish. I stayed to hang out a little longer, but by that time, I didn't know anyone else, so I just decided to go. Got home around 2am, but if I'd had someone else with me, I would have stayed out until the sun came up! I'm so spoiled now that I really am gonna want to go back to the Bacchus Ball every year (need to start dating a guy who's part of the Krewe!)

A toast to the God of Wine! A very heartfelt thanks to my friend for thinking of me with the invitation! And here's wishing that every Mardi Gras is as fun as this one has been!

The Mardi Gras fun continues!

Sunday, February 15, 2009, an afternoon of relaxation and parade enjoyment. I headed out to Metairie to catch more parades, this time, at a different location. What most people will tell you is that they find a location and stick with it, year after year. Since I'm kinda new at this, I like the thought of bouncing around-catching it off Houma with Shaun, right on the neutral ground on Vet's with Tracy, and now taking in the sights right off Severn.

My plan was to meet a couple more ladies from my office, Linda and Matilda, to watch the Krewe of Rhea parade, and maybe stick around for the Krewe of Centurions parade that followed. Linda's daughter is on one of the dance teams and was marching in the Rhea parade. The day was beautiful, positively glorious. You couldn't have asked for a more delightful day: 75, sunny, with a slight breeze off the ocean. It doesn't get more perfect than that.

I was able, thankfully, to find Linda and Matty with relative ease (which is something you won't oft hear me say). I came prepared to this parade with a fold-up chair and a cooler full of beer. Of all the locations I've been to thus far, I think I liked the Severn one the best. You get to see the parade come up one side, and then it crosses right back in front of you as it comes up the other side of Severn.

The Rhea parade really wasn't all that remarkable, aside from the fact that the parade kept stopping. Seemed like every other float broke down. This caused the parade to stretch far longer than it was supposed to. Once it was over, we just decided to stay on for the Krewe of Centurions, but by this time, night had started to set-in. The temperature dropped and we were all freezing! Fortunately, there is a Morning-Call restaurant right around the corner from where we were stationed. If you're familiar with Cafe Du Monde, Morning-Call is essentially the same thing-coffee/chicory and biegnets.

I promise you, I ate no less than a dozen biegnets that day. Everytime one of us wanted to use the bathroom (as an aside, I was forced to use the men's room almost every time because there was only 1 ladies stall working and after that much beer, Chappy ain't waitin' for the ladies room to clear), one of us went and bought more biegnets, and as soon as the temperature dropped, we took up refuge in the restaurant itself. The Centurions parade was more fun. I entertained myself by watching the men on one particular float that happened to stop right in front of us for a long period of time!

For my first full-on Mardi Gras weekend, I'd definitely give it an "A"!


Matilda, Chappy, Linda:


Krewe of Rhea parade:


More Krewe of Rhea parade:

Finally, My FIRST Parade!!!

The date was: Friday, February 13 2009. The Krewe was: Atlas.

I was SO excited. After the debacle down in the Quarter the weekend before, I finally was going to get to see what Mardi Gras is really all about. Because I hate doing everything by myself, I found out a couple of the ladies I work with (Shaun and Tracy) were taking their families to the parades in Metairie. The Metairie parades (different from the New Orleans parades) all go down Veteran's Memorial Boulevard and cross in front of the mall. Shaun and her husband were taking their daughter and son, along with the son's girlfriend, to see the parade at the very beginning, while Tracy and her husband were taking both their boys to catch the parade at the end.

I stayed at work until about 7pm that night then decided to head-out and meet Shaun. Again, I have a problem not getting lost and Shaun had to come across the mall parking lot, meet me, and hop in the Volvo to give me personal directions to parking. We park and walk back to her family, and the parade began. There were bands and floats and dance teams-OH MY! At the beginning, the kids all looked so happy and excited-the Metairie parade route is something like 6 or 8 miles long (just keep that in mind when I get to the end of this story). I caught a TON of beads! I felt like Mister T by the time it was all over and done with.

After the parade passed Shaun and her Family and I, I decided I'd had so much fun, I'd like to catch it again at the end with Tracy and her group. I hopped in the car and 20 minutes later (traffic), I found myself standing on the neutral ground (to those who don't live here, that's also known as the median) on Veteran's awaiting the parade at the end of the route. The parade started to approach, and it was even more lively than at the beginning! The bands were playing and actively marching, the dance teams were all over the place, and the beads were just a flowing! One thing I immediately noticed, though, is that the kids look EXHAUSTED, and rightly so! I cannot even begin to imagine having to dance and march and play for 6-8 miles. Some of these kids march in parades back to back to back, too! Talk about being a trooper.

While standing amidst the excitement and flurry of activity, like some cruel and practical joke, here came the rain, falling on all of our heads in torrential streams. Thankfully, Tracy is nothing if not adequately prepared for all situations when it comes to her children: coats, sneakers, rain ponchos, and umbrellas! She mercifully gave me a poncho which I tied around me at the neck like a cape because I couldn't seem to figure out how to put the bloody thing actually over my clothes, and Tracy and I huddled beneath what had to be the biggest umbrella I'd ever seen. Still, despite the rain and winds whipping about, the beads flew and the kids marched on. I was lucky enough to receive two very special items actually handed to me off the floats through all of the rain, so it was worth every bit of cold, soggy tennis shoes and soaking wet jeans that I went through.

I've seen and marched in parades before, but my first Mardi Gras parade experience was, by far and away, the best one ever. To have shared it with two wonderful women and their families made the experience even more enjoyable. I'll cherish the memory every year, for years to come, and I know sheer delight and excitement will pour through my veins next season as soon as the first marching band hits their first note.


One of the floats:


A very rain-soaked Tracy and I:


Shaun and I:

My very first parade.....well, almost

This is a great time of year to live in New Orleans. It's Mardi Gras time, Baby! Since this will be my very first ever Mardi Gras, I was so stoked when the parade season began. The folks down here are nuts for parades! Their kids march and dance in them, people I work with ride on the floats, it's simply incredible how into the season the whole City becomes.

Carnival has no official beginning. 'Round here, the parades typically start the last week in January. Much to my surprise, and to those of you who don't live here, I learned that 99% of the New Orleans parades actually go down St. Charles Avenue-NOT Bourbon Street. They stopped allowing parades to go down Bourbon several decades ago because too many people and too many moving floats running down too narrow a street can only spell one thing-disaster. All that in mind, you can imagine how excited I was when I found a parade that actually went through the Quarter! Granted, said parade didn't run down Bourbon, rather Decatur Street to Royal, but that's still in the Quarter-my very first Mardi Gras Parade!!!

I knew ahead of time that I was going solo to the parade. None of the people I work with will ever even go into the City, let alone into the Quarter, at night. I begged and begged them to come, but alas, I got nowhere. My day began by coming into the office that Saturday, February 7, 2009, to do some work (hello, workaholic much?). After getting home around 4pm, I quickly cleaned up the apartment some, freshened-up, and got dressed-royal blue sweater from the Gap, short black skirt a la Old Navy, boots, and my lucky jean jacket.

I decided it might be neat to take the street cars down to the parade; I've been here for 2 1/2 months and I STILL have yet to hop on one of the trains. After making the decision to take a street car, it was then of course that I realized I had no cash. A quick run down to the Walgreens for batteries and cash, and then I see it: every street car going down St Charles is PACKED. Not even standing room.

"Think, Jackie! Think!"..... "Eureka! I've got it!!" Take a cab!

I parked the Volvo back outside the apartment and walked down one block to Washington and Magazine. Do you know that there wasn't one single cab that passed by that wasn't already filled to the brim with people??? Finally, a taxi pulled into the gas station where I was standing. After waiting 15 minutes for the driver to come back from the Starbucks across the street, I had a ride.

While in the cab, my very friendly driver began to make small talk:

"Are you from here?" No, just moved from Atlanta.

"What's your name?" Jackie.

"What do you do for a living?" Insurance.

"Where are you going?" To the Quarter for my first ever Mardi Gras parade.

"Are you married?"......Am I married? Hmmm...well, not anymore was my thought. So, to his last question, I answered in the negative.

His next question, while it didn't shock me by any means (people rarely shock me with their behavior), was a bit forward:

"How has a beautiful girl like you managed to stay single so long?" After 5 more minutes of remarkably uncomfortable discussion on why I now find myself single, I learned that my cab driver's name was Omar. He was a fairly young guy, maybe 26-27ish. He moved from India 6 years ago after his family kicked him out due to his gambling problem and he had just broken up with his girlfriend here in the states.

What happened next DID shock me. Omar proceeds to tell me how very attractive I am and asks me if I will consider letting him be my boyfriend...... Ummmmm, no. Chappy and a Cabbie? That's a no-go. Don't get me wrong: Omar was pretty fly. I love a man w/a bald head, and his was shaved to the skin. He had a pretty smile and nice face w/a partial goatee, and he was close to my age, which is all nice, but talk about red flags! Prior gambling addiction and a very questionable job choice is more than enough to halt any further discussion with a respectable lady. I politely thanked him for the compliment and changed the subject.

After letting me off at Canal and Charters, Omar tells me to walk up one block and take a right and that should put me on Royal, which is where the parade was going. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I couldn't find my way out of a wet paper bag if I tried. People give me directions, and I STILL get lost. I have the worst possible sense of direction and I honestly should just do the opposite of all my instincts. Trusting Omar's directions, however, I walk up one block and take a right. Huh.....Up one block from Charters puts me on Bourbon-NOT ROYAL. Thinking maybe I could just cut over one block, I began walking aimlessly up and down Bourbon looking for a safe side street to cut-through.....I found none. I couldn't find the parade! "HOW do you miss a parade," a guy friend later asked me. Hell, I have no idea. See the comment above re: my awful sense of direction.

After 30 minutes of walking around (and actually catching a glimpse of Chris Owen's establishment), I finally gave up and walked into the Old Absinthe House. The Absinthe House happens to be across the street from what has become my favorite blues joint, The CoCo Club. The bands are fun and lively, and even though the place is packed w/tourists, I love it. Of course, at 8:30, the club is nowhere near ready to get swingin', so at the Absinthe House I wait. 3 beers later, and a very attractive guy sits down next to me by himself (and he WAS actually attractive-it wasn't the beer talking). The night just got more interesting.

I have never had an issue striking up conversation with anyone. Daddy always used to say I'd argue with a fence post if I thought I could win, so simply talking to a stranger is easy. When the bartender began making a glass of Absinthe (which is rather entertaining in and of itself, what w/the green liquid, the flaming sugar cube, and water to put out the fire), I used that to strike up a conversation. Found out the stranger's name was Rich and he was in town for a convention through work. Lives in Boston and is the manager of something having to do with a golf course, maintenance I think. Divorced, two kids, leaving the next day. After another beer and more conversation, the CoCo Club is starting to get rowdy, so Rich and I head over there. We met some of the people he was at the convention with and had a fantastic time! Several hours later, yada, yada, yada, and I find myself hailing a cab at 2am across the street from Harrah's.

I may have missed the parade, but all things considered, it was a fabulous night out on the town!

Gotta love New Orleans!

My apologies, in advance

So, to say I've been hellua busy at work would be an understatement. Between audits, and deadlines, and reviews, and turmoil on a local level w/the counsel my client formerly used, it's been non-stop. I haven't posted in FORever! You have my apologies in advance. You're gonna see several posts, back to back to back. Be forewarned......