(A quote from Pete Fountain years ago in an interview with New Orleans journalist Rosemary James.)
And so it has always been, with every Mardi Gras being the one that is the favorite in your mind, tops in your memory. And so it is this year. Some impressions;
Perfect Carnival weather, just what you'd want -- warm temperatures, blue skies, blessedly dry ground. There was a little rain a few nights, but it was mostly just mizzle-drizzle, not enough to stop a parade or soak the ground. The terrific weather really facilitated the crowds, the families setting up with their chairs and tables and canopies and BBQs.
•Prize for most beautiful parade this year goes, hands down, to Hermes, with a theme of the myth of Dionysus. Royal Artists created floats that were apparitions of sensuous loveliness, with flowing draperies, exquisite figures both male and female, and giant jiggling flowers in the 19th century style. Even Mardi Gras virgins were impressed -- a friend of mine, seeing her very first parade ever, asked wonderingly, "Are they all this beautiful?" Well, no -- but it does make you appreciate the ones that are. Thank you, Hermes, for the gift of such ephemeral beauty.
•No less than 4 different groups skewered Archbishop Hughes for the closure of those New Orleans Catholic churches after Katrina: Druids did "Why Archbishop Why?" Tucks pictured him as a Mafia boss. Either Chaos or Krewe D'Etat (sorry, i get them mixed up) had "You Pay Your Money, He Makes His Choice" Winner in the make-fun-of-the-Archbishop contest has to be the Marching Archbishops, a group of about 50 men of all shapes and sizes dressed in formal archbishop liturgical robes.
•Best new throw of the season is the amazing holographic cup thrown by Hermes -- a regular plastic Mardi Gras cup of the regulation size, but completely wrapped around the outside with a 3-dimensional-looking design. Once the new cup hit the streets, interest waned in normal cups. Next year, look for more krewes catching onto this innovation. Thanks again, Hermes!
•My sister from Minnesota noted a whole hierarchy of catching throws. You can still feel good about yourself if you scoop up cups, beads, dubloons, and gadgets off the sidewalk or street once they've fallen there, but better than that is catching them on the fly in the air, snatching them down out of their high-flown trajectories. Higher still is when you catch something that is meant just for you, with the float rider gesturing or pointing to you and you then receiving something that is intended for you. (Correct parade etiquette demands that others intercepting that throw give it to the intended target.) Once you get the throw that was meant for you, politeness requires acknowledgment to the float rider, with thumbs up, a wave, or a blown kiss. Top marks in the ranking of catching/receiving parade throws is when a float rider manage to "ring" you with a necklace, landing it neatly and almost gently right around your neck. This, being understandably difficult, doesn't happen that often. (The masker who got me that way at one parade danced around in triumph, both thumbs raised in the air.)
•Nearly everything local that ought to be satirized came in for the requisite slings and barbs -- the mayor of course, the governor, FEMA (most fun: Tucks' Dracula float with the caption "FEMA Sucks"), Bill Jefferson (and his indicted family), David Vitter and his escapades with prostitiutes, the city council (pictured as crying babies in one memorable instance), those stupid traffic cameras. Some krewes went outside the city and state to throw their outrageous arrows, with floats depicting Sarah Palin and even Amy Winehouse (gee, who cares??).
•I love how we New Orleanians salute the carnival royalty with the traditional cries of "Hail!" "Hail, Dictator" we yell incongruously to the leader of Krewe D'Etat in his Napoleon outfit. "Hail, Captain!" we holler at the man in old silver brocade and velvet riding a horse at the head of Rex. "Hail, Proteus!" to the Uptown guy in the theatrical make-up waving the traditional trident.
•My brother-in-law's idea to purchase 2 cases of plush alligator headgear was inspired. Our extended family gathered at our regular spot on Napoleon, about 20 people altogether give or take making up the newly-formed Krewe of Gatorhead, was a tremendous hit with other parade-goers as well as with float riders (celeb Joan Rivers threw stuff to my niece, yelling down, "Love your hat!") Bonus: an AP photographer not only took our group's picture, he bought a gatorhead to take home to his girlfriend!
•Prize for best parade food: the folks who set up a table in my sister's front yard and shucked raw oysters til the sacks ran out. My god! THAT was fun!! And totally delicious.
•Most exciting moment for me was witnessing my Big Man marching down the street in the Rex Parade as part of the 3rd Line Brass Band. Wow! The Rex Parade! My late father would have been SO impressed. Actually, the Rex Parade was Big Man's *third* parade, as he marched with the Riveraide Ramblers right behind the Ducks of Dixieland in the Tucks Parade, and of course in the Krewe of Barkus in the French Quarter (fun, of course, but a smaller deal). Big Man says the biggest thrill is the turn onto Canal Street from St. Charles Avenue, just as the musicians and other marchers are tiring and wishing it were all over, when the gigantic crowd ROARS and it seems like wall to wall to people and they are all cheering you on, and the energy just washes over the bands and marchers. (Of course, afterwards, if you are not a teenager with raging hormones and endless stores of energy, you are dead tired and your legs and feet ache -- but still, Big Man says he would SO do it all over again.
•Once again this year, I pass without detailed comment on the MOMs Ball, except to note that it was a great time, as always somewhat surreal in its transgressive delights. I was disappointed to leave "early" at 2"30 am -- our plan next year is to arrive later and avoid the entry line, and thus be willing and able to stay later. (However,, this will require finding someone else to lead the service at church the next day.)
And so, oversupplied once more with beads and throws, replete with way too much good food, with sore feet and leg muscles, we wake on Ash Wednesday a little bit relieved and a little bit sad that another Carnival is over.
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