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!