Beads, coconuts, bourbon and more

Oh, it's carnival time, and everyone is having fun.

Why is it that everytime I speak to a tourist in NOLA during Carnival, I always want to try to explain to them that it isn't about boobs, it's not about hangovers, it's not about the extravagant extravagance??? Well, not entirely.

I try to tell them,
"Mardi Gras is
Jazz bands on the radio,
Seats nailed to ladders,
Costumes being the norm,
Joyish celebration for plastic beads,
Kids on shoulders,
Crying for coconuts,
Longing for Mckenzie's king cakes, but enjoying Randazzos;
Dancing to the beat of marching bands,
And not sweating the small stuff, because by God, there is a parade tonight!


To me, Carnival time is about letting go of your fears, your misconceptions, your worries. It's about embracing you neighbors, your inner-child, your pursuit of happiness. Statistics have shown that during Mardi Gras, violent crime is usually at its lowest....it really doesn't surprise me, for even in the madness that is trying to navigate your car back home after or during a parade, while one or two car horns may blow, a million more are blaring New Orleans music from open windows. For once we are not worrying about being stuck in a gridlock on St. Charles, waiting for the last of the street cleaning trucks to clear the way for traffic, and instead are enthusiastically comparing our beads and throws.

New Orleans hasn't come "back;" New Orleans was never gone. A hurricane can never wash away what is the very soul of a city: its people, it's culture, its heartbeat. We never will go away, we never will succumb to the propaganda that NOLA is a has been, a waste of time and money, a city of lazy wanters. We are strong, we are vibrant. We are what makes this country great, and we make it great with our songs of celebration, of sadness, of soul, and of new beginnings. We sometimes need reminders that our neighbors are our future, and sometimes need a helping hand. And during Carnival time, everyone seems to forget set boundaries, and come together as neighbors and friends, to tap their feet and clap their hands to St. Aug, to throw coins at the Flambeaus, and to hail King Rex, keeper of Mardi Gras Spirit. As Lent settles upon us, Catholics will reflect on our humanism, and quietly usher in a period of somber times as the Horsed Police Brigade clear Bourbon St., and try to remember how One's sacrifice changed Man Kind forever. The frenzy of the Mardi Gras spirit dies, and we wait, counting our blessings, until Spring arrives, and New Beginnings are upon us. And then, Let Jazz Fest Begin.


Throw me something mister,

Happy Mardi Gras, y'all.