Mardi Gras 2009: The Ride in Endymion … Mardi Gras 2009

I never imagined such a thing. Sure we’ve all heard and seen the pictures of the French Quarter this time of year. People from across the globe struggling to stay sober and clothed for that matter, while having little issue with sleep or finding the next beer. My first trip to Mardi Gras could be described as eye opening, but not like you think. My subsequent trips and annual ride in the Endymion parade continues to amaze me. From the ride before Katrina, to the one right after, the spirit of this city may take knocks and bruises, but there’s something about this season, where the hope comes through the veins of parades that bring a lifeblood to so many neighborhoods and so many walks of life. This is a 3 minute video of my ride this year.



First, you gotta understand, Mardi Gras is not the French Quarter. Well, it is, and it isn’t. The quarter looks like a sardine can of people, in all sorts and styles of dress. Music abounds, walking parades, a few police officers and beer vendors seem to be the only thing that can part the crowd. You see, the big parades like you watch on the televison, they can’t go through the French Quarter, the streets are too narrow and the crowds too thick. So, most parades march through town, then down Canal Street before hanging a right onto St.Charles. The big parades like Endymion (mine) and Bacchus end up in the Super dome for a massive party that stays until dawn. The smaller ones have their own versions of celebrations following the ride and it seems like there is a krewe for everyone.

I ride in the Endymion parade as part of the ‘Wright Krewe’, which rolls on Saturday night and is the biggest of the season. Several hundred thousand line the streets for hours as part of a city long block party. It’s this slice of life that you really don’t see unless you come to the ‘Big Easy’ this time of year. The block party stretches down Orleans and Carrollton, Canal and St. Charles. People stand 20 and 30 deep in places and families mark their spots days in advance. Barbeque’s spew smoke that drifts to our second tier perch, vendors hawk everything imaginable and as we reach each block, the roar sends a spike of energy that keeps you standing and throwing hours into the night. Businesses spill onto the streets, kids have gaping smiles from ear to ear and generations join together to celebrate the floats and beg for beads.

Each year I join a good friend Chris Laiche and his family. Native to Metairie, they introduced me to this season about a decade ago, right before we reported to spring training one year. Like thousands of other families, they stake their spot, set up the tables and chairs and spread out the food. The day begins here about 7 hours before the parade passes. kids play catch, games and even sleep in wagons. Parents and friends mingle, mix, swap tales and food. Ladders line the roads behind barricades, each one topped with their own little sky box of sorts. The kids sit in the box at the top above the outstretched hands of adults who also fight for the $1 strand of beads as if it was string of pearls. Like the smell of distinct food that makes this town so welcoming, the sound of music seems to pour out of every window and from every family plot.

The parade which includes high school bands, horses and fire trucks, takes a couple of hours to pass each location. As I look down there are piles of beads and debris that stacks up along the street like snow pushed aside by a plow. I do my best to hit the people in the back of the crowd. Since we are about one story above the street, I get an easy vantage point and a better chance of getting beads to those generally older and younger. Sometimes too old, young, or shy to try and push their way to the front. How can you not smile and enjoy such an amazing piece of America.

Eventually we reach the dome. Because our floats are so massive, only a couple can circle inside the home of the Saints, so we await our turn. Once inside, thousands of family and friends are in black tie and gowns, along with riders in costume, that’s only allowed. The noise is deafening and tables seem to be crammed into very available inch. This is the extravaganza and the party, music, food and drink will last here until dawn. Draining any hint of energy until the last drop has helped feed the vein that stretches for two weeks of Mardi Gras.


Source: onthescene.blogs.foxnews.com