MARDI GRAS 2015: Sudden Friends & Second Acts

THE CALM AFTER THE STORM

Decorated Step Ladder Children's Chairs Awaiting the Parades

Decorated Step Ladder Children’s Chairs Awaiting the Parades

I awoke around 4 a.m. the morning after Morpheus with a throbbing headache and downed some aspirin and a quart of coconut water. A few hours later I stirred again feeling exponentially better, but still far from well. It was my first serious over-indulgence since last Mardi Gras, and though a pretty good stretch I still cursed at myself. It was Valentine’s Day and I was in New Orleans. I didn’t have time to nurse a hangover.

At the nearby Ruby Slipper we were warned of an hour wait at it neared 11:00. As noon approached, the hostess informed me there were still 22 parties ahead of us, so we wandered a few blocks to Canal for an overpriced but tasty and desperately needed lunch at Palace Café, a Brennan family restaurant.

Our Valentine's Day Catches

Our Valentine’s Day Catches

Aimee was also feeling a bit drained after a full Friday, so with little vigor we perused the shops on Royal and Decatur before catching a bit of Iris (an all female krewe that handed me one of the best medallions of the season) and Tucks (an irreverent krewe throwing toilet paper, giant ‘Blow Me’ whistles, sunglasses with flaps, beer barrel beer koozies, and other silly novelties bearing their name). It was a lovely afternoon and I enjoyed reversing roles to spectator, but by late afternoon we retired to the hotel to nap and read in the tropical courtyard, venturing out only for a quiet Valentine’s dinner at Cochon Butcher and a handful of Endymion floats—the first Super Krewe of the weekend—before calling it an early night

FROM PERRY MASON TO PALMOLIVE & PANCAKES

Sunday morning I awoke reenergized, so we finally made our way Uptown to Slim Goodies. As I eagerly awaited my Creole Slammer (hash browns and eggs smothered in etouffee) and Aimee her pancakes (one pumpkin, one banana), I asked if Gideon was working. Soon a jolly, portly yet quietly dignified man appeared to exuberantly greet me.

Creole Slammer: Diner Bliss

Creole Slammer:
Diner Bliss

A walking library who has read seemingly everything in print, Gideon is another book club friend, and his story is a fascinating one I would love to tell in detail someday. Basically, though, [Read more…]

Mardi Gras 2015: Day of Nightmares, God of Dreams–Part 2

SOPHMORE SLOWING

Perhaps the biggest concern of first-time Mardi Gras riders is “How much stuff should I buy?” There is no set answer, however, because it depends on your personality. Heavy throwers—like Marco beside me with a stash bigger than one of the elephants he trains—constantly fire beads and novelties like a machine gun, often tossing the unopened cellophane packages of a dozen strands that fill 20-25lb vinyl bags, and occasionally throwing the whole dang bag. Conversely, light throwers take plenty of time to sip their drinks and soak it in, tantalizingly dangling favors before the crowd until spotting someone in a sufficient frenzy to warrant the reward. Then there are folks in the middle like me. One of the first bits of advice I’d gotten before my first ride was “See who you throw to,” and that seemed to fit my style.

At least theoretically

Between the haste of our drivers after being stranded behind Krewe d’Etat, the overwhelming newness of it all, and a few too many Jello shots, I’d done my best to spot my targets but that first ride had been a blur. This year, however, as we rounded the corner onto Magazine Street I immediately felt like more relaxed and in control, like a second year NFL quarterback admitting the game has slowed down.

AFFIRMATIVE ACTION FOR BIG DUDES & TOURISTS

View Of the Crowd As We Turned Onto Magazine

View Of the Crowd As We Turned Onto Magazine

As we crept down Magazine it was immediately apparent that this crowd was special. After last year’s delay we’d lost many spectators—especially downtown—but this year the crowd remained thick and enthusiastic throughout. Perhaps it was because our delay hadn’t been as long, or our Freaky Friday theme kept them enthralled. It certainly wasn’t [Read more…]

Mardi Gras 2015: Day of Nightmares, God of Dreams, Part 1

GETTING METER MADE

2015-02-13 17.19.23Arriving back in New Orleans for the first time since summer, I did what most returning pilgrims do: went to eat. Although my heart was set on Slim Goodies—my favorite breakfast dive—prudence advised otherwise. It was already late morning and I had to load the beads I’d brought from home, stop by the store, and check into the hotel, all before Morpheus Bash at 2:00. Besides, NOPD shuts streets down early on parade days and I didn’t want to get caught Uptown; thus I exited onto Poydras and headed to my oldest NOLA culinary love, Mother’s. (Yes, critics, it’s overpriced with declining portions, but I stand by her quality!)

2015-02-13 16.52.45Aimee was accompanying me for her second Mardi Gras (though sadly her nephew and his girlfriend couldn’t make it after their infectious exuberance in 2014) so I dropped her off to stand in line and found parking nearby. Digging in my pockets I realized I didn’t have change but fortunately had parked in front of Barcadia so ducked inside to use their change machine. Returning with $2, I pumped it all into the meter advertising $1.50 an hour and watched it register 56 minutes. Grinning, I shook my head. Welcome back to New Orleans, where even the parking meters are on the take!

PUTTING THE FAT IN TUESDAY

2015-02-13 12.34.16Although I recently wrote that I didn’t miss New Orleans food, I only meant as a full-time dietary staple. I fully intended to put the Fat in my Tuesday while in town and give myself a reason to [Read more…]

Mardi Gras 2015: Prelude to a Party

A BRIEF HISTORY OF (SIX MONTH’S) TIME….

Leaving Last July With U-Haul in Tow

Leaving Last July With U-Haul in Tow

As New Orleans receded in my rearview mirror last July I felt certain I’d soon return. I longed for a second peek at a NOLA Halloween and the enchantment of a third straight Crescent City Christmas. Yet the next six months would be dominated by a tougher-than-expected return to the working world. I was passed over for the University job that had fit prominently into my reasoning for returning; I had a home health job lined up as backup but it was late August before I could prod them into processing my paperwork and then, after initially loading me up with new patient evaluations, they handed my caseload to an Occupational Therapist Assistant who would work for half the salary; I signed on with another company with two therapists out on maternity leave, but it turned out to be a small operation with only part-time employees so referrals were infrequent; I signed on with a third agency that promised 15-20 visits a week—a good two or three days—but their referrals flat-lined my first week as though I were some sort of cursed talisman.

Throughout autumn I scrambled for work, feeling the pressure of my extended absence. When the holidays finally rolled around I was suddenly swamped as everyone everywhere took vacation but I knew it wouldn’t last. Still, I busted my hump, often working Saturday and Sunday, afraid to turn anything away.

"Eric's Angels," My Old Therapy Team: Kim, Who Would Now Be My Boss, On Far Right

“Eric’s Angels,” My Old Therapy Team:
Kim, Who Would Now Be My Boss, On Far Right

During this temporary glut, however, I agreed to work for the Physical Therapist who had worked for me before I moved to New Orleans. She had slid into my supervisor’s position when I departed and since relocated—along with much of the building’s staff that I knew and loved—to a new memory care facility on the west side of town. I wasn’t exactly psyched to return to the stress and demand of memory/Alzheimer’s care and I dreaded the 30 mile/45 minute drive but it was steady work with folks who were thrilled to have me back (and sometimes it’s nice to feel needed!) Besides, it would be satisfying to reverse roles and simply see patients while Kim ran around in constant crisis management mode!!!

This new position was part-time but it kept me busy with the possibility of going full-time this summer when the company expands closer to home. Thus, after months of scrambling I entered 2015 with a bit of stability that allowed me to refocus.

LIKE A PHYSICIAN PERPETUALLY ON-CALL

It seems underemployment would allow time to write and travel, yet I was always hustling—searching and waiting like a physician perpetually on call, afraid to step out the door lest the phone finally ring. People often ask why I took a year off to write, and this is exactly why. Energy and focus are finite resources and some things they will forever remain on the back-burner unless you prioritize them. During my creative drought of the latter half of 2014 I did manage to work a little on a collection of short stories I’ve been conceptualizing for years, but for the most part was mired in creative limbo.

EMBRACING FISCAL IMPRUDENCE

Santa Prepares to Ride

Our Awesome Morpheus Throws!

The approach of Christmas, however, lifted my malaise and left me yearning for some NOLA magic. Although I was now too swamped to visit, I finally dusted off the blog to reflect upon the things I missed and, for the sake of balance and self-reflection, the challenges and obstacles I didn’t. The latter, however, had softened with distance while the former weighed on my heart. Mardi Gras was approaching and I had no intention of missing it.

Marching With Chewbacchus

Marching With Chewbacchus

Perhaps the most fun I had during my entire adventure was marching with Chewbacchus, so watching my friends post pictures of their preparations online left me wistful. I’d clung to a faint hope of attending and then returning the next weekend for Morpheus, but family issues rendered that impracticality an impossibility. The Krewe of Morpheus, however, had set their deadline for dues at the end of October so I had already paid—underemployment and fiscal prudence be damned—so in January I booked my room at the Hampton Inn Convention Center and ordered my throws from Plush Appeal. It seemed a lavish indulgence, but I had no regrets. It was almost Mardi Gras and I was going to once again help host the party!

A PEBBLE ON THE SHORES OF A MIGHTY RIVER

2015-02-13 16.52.45As January zipped past, so did emails between riders on my float; apparently I wasn’t the only one chomping at the bit. Crazy Don from Boston—who’d again ride beside me—ramped up the countdown he’d begun immediately after last year’s ride while puffing up his deflated Patriots as I antagonized him on Facebook. Doug from D.C. maintained his unfailing cheerfulness despite learning the power of an omitted accent mark, having caused a stir by describing our new nightcaps as lame instead of lame¢. (Yeah, I had to look it up.) The Karolina krewe reached out to see if I’d be back and blogging. It was clear no one’s mind was on work!

Although there are parades throughout Mardi Gras season, things truly kick off with Nyx the Wednesday evening before Ash Wednesday, with multiple parades following daily through Fat Tuesday. Last year Nyx had been my biggest booty bonanza of the season (maybe because I had two friends riding but more likely because I was dressed like a pirate!), and as I watched my K.R.A.P. friends post online about gathering again I sighed and finished packing, knowing I’d be on the road by the following afternoon.

My 2014 Nyx Booty

My 2014 Nyx Booty

At work the next morning I passed out beads to residents and staff (with other krewe’s logos since you can’t recycle another krewe’s beads), fleeing the fully-beaded Assisted Living in the early afternoon to plunge down the long, droning expanse of I-10 West. I’d booked a cheap room for the  night in a Biloxi casino, so as midnight approached I settled into bed with visions of sugar plums…err flying decorated shoes…dancing in my head, for Muses was finishing its march down Tchoupitoulas less than 90 miles away. Just one more sleep until Carnival!

The next morning as the city skyline appeared in the distance my heart leapt. My first attempt to settle New Orleans may have failed, but the city had captured a piece of my heart when I first arrived in 1998 and after living there for a year and a half I felt—in the tiniest way—a part of it; perhaps just a pebble on the shores of a mighty river, but it was my pebble now.

PREVIOUS ARTICLE

NEXT ARTICLE

HOME

Mardi Gras Marches On: The Gravitational Center of the NOLA Calendar

THE NOLA NEW YEAR

Me, Aimee, Reid, & Mark at the Morpheus Captain's Crawl

Me, Aimee, Reid, & Mark at the Morpheus Captain’s Crawl

I have written many time about how Mardi Gras is a year round event. Even though 2014’s Carnival Season ended with Ash Wednesday on March 5th, minds immediately turned to 2015’s festivities. In fact, only a handful of days into Lent my ever enthusiastic float mate, Don, posted the first of his now regular countdown updates on Morpheus’s Facebook wall: Only 342 days until we ride! Mardi Gras—not New Years or Christmas—is the epicenter of the New Orleans calendar, drawing all other days and events into its orbit.

In the opening pages of this blog I asserted:

Mardi Gras isn’t a few weeks of planning followed by a big blowout.  It’s a year of preparation and perspiration that unfolds over several weeks like a military campaign hell-bent on spreading heaven throughout the darkest months of the year.

This thesis was confirmed last summer during my visit to Mardi Gras World—a tourist attraction that provides the public a behind-the-scenes view of how Mardi Gras is built. During my tour I learned most krewes hand the facility’s conceptual artists their theme for next year’s parade on Ash Wednesday—or sometimes before. Even in the more informal and DIY Chewbacchus my sub-krewe of K.R.A.P. was bouncing around plans for a Jabba the Hut’s Barge float next year before the final parades had rolled. (Since I’d yet to embark on My Low Carb Lent to shed my ‘transplant twenty-five,’ I offered to play Jabba but co-leader Rachel Unger shot back that [Read more…]