PREMATURE PROJECTILE DISORDER

As we turned away from the river onto Jefferson Avenue (our float’s namesake!) a small crowd was waiting, though we wouldn’t ‘officially’ be underway until we turned back downriver along Magazine Street. By now, though, the anticipation was killing us and we began tossing beads and a few specialty items to the modest crowd as we passed these four ‘unofficial’ blocks.

Magazine Street, like St. Charles and Tchoupitoulas, runs the entire length of Uptown paralleling the river, housing the main commercial artery of Uptown. We would follow it for nearly a mile, turn away from the river again onto Napoleon for seven blocks, and continue upriver via St. Charles for three miles back to Canal Street which divides the French Quarter from ‘downtown’ or the Central Business District. After turning down Canal towards the river for four blocks we’d turn back on Tchoupitoulas, ending where we began. (This should give you an idea of the parade box trapping much of Uptown that I’ve spoken of previously.)

As we crept along Jefferson waiting to make that final turn past ‘Go,’ my mind raced trying to figure out how to ration my seemingly modest pile of throws. Don’s and Kim’s, were double mine in size, though I did note they had a lot of medium-sized inflated balls, fleur-de-lis footballs, and long toy spears that took up a lot of space but would go quickly. I’d collected bags of plain beads in all sizes and colors with a little help from my friends (Kyle, Kelly, & Aimee; K.R.A.P. at Nyx; Krewe du Brew; and two bags left over from Mardi Gras 2011 via my Jacksonville friends) and these are compact and small so I should be able stretch them out. Still, as we at long last we made that critical turn I tentatively threw plain beads along with a few blue & sliver Morpheus moon & star strands, terrified that in my excitement I’d blow my multi-colored load before we were halfway through!

THREE SHEETS TO THE SOLAR WIND

I don’t now if it was the VH1 incident or a flat tire on a float or something else, but it was around 8:30 by the time we started to roll. Kyle and Aimee would text from Lee Circle where they were waiting at 10:08 (though I wouldn’t see the text until after the parade) to see if we had in fact been cancelled. Apparently there was a long wait after Krewe D’etat and much of the crowd was leaving. By then, though, we were well underway.

As we now crept in motion, I was definitely in full party mode. Even after a year of living in New Orleans I rarely drink to the point of true intoxication, yet had sailed through Chewbacchus three sheets to the solar wind and had lustily hit the open bar at Generations Hall while I rocked out to Bag of Donuts. On the float I had kept the spirit alive with beer and Jello shots. Once we were rolling in earnest, however, I wouldn’t even pause to think of taking a sip, completely oblivious that I had a beer open. In fact, once we started I didn’t think we were ever going to stop!

I’ve seen enough Mardi Gras parades to know that most of them cruise along for a while, get held up for a few minutes, start back up, and soon stall again. I don’t think this is by design and can be frustrating to viewers caught up in a frenzy of bead lust but provides time to reload and regroup if you’re a rider. Or so I guess. Perhaps it was that we were late or maybe we had unusually good fortune and a clear path, but once we hit Magazine we didn’t stop until we were almost downtown.

TIME WARPS…

I beg forgiveness for any distortions of time or space that have occurred in this recounting so far. They’re only going to get worse from here on out!

My heart was pumping with excitement as we began to greet the crowds, and my mind raced trying to soak it all in, struggling to process the instant bombardment of pleas from the people piled several rows deep on the sidewalk. It felt like we were doing 70 mph as we zoomed past the eager faces and outstretched hands, yet in actuality we would travel a paltry 5 miles in about two and a half hours, which is slower than I walk!

Footage of Frantic Crowds Taken From Atop Our Float: Courtesy of Debbie Cleary Raynor

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