Day 525: Home, Home And Deranged

This was the theme of our Krewe du Vieux float and the past month for D and me. Wisconsin, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Manhattan, drive back to New Orleans, costume and float preparation, Wisconsin, drive back to New Orleans, Krewe du Vieux. Phew! It feels glorious to sit before my computer in sweats with nothing large to look forward to for a WHOLE WEEK! The “traditional” Mardi Gras parades that begin this week are a lot of work to put on, but not as intense and personal in fun and labor as Krewe du Vieux.

After participating in the utterly refreshing and non-stodgy Catholic baptism and post-party of William and Darrel, our tiny, beautiful, fresh-smelling and angelic godsons, D and I began the day-long trek back to New Orleans in D’s boat … I mean … large and trusty vehicle which I ought not to mock. Crossing America the beautiful is wonderful, but best left to when we have more time and appreciation. How could I have forgotten how long Illinois is?

Pictures from the baptism

After an entire Saturday of makeup, costuming and throw preparation, John (in from Houston with Ismael a.k.a. Tia Smiley) drove us to the parade pre-party at Cafe Brasil where I had the honor of meeting our new band, Leroy Jones & The Original Hurricane Brass Band (big thumbs up – I love these guys and one girl!), and offering the second-line umbrella to the Krewe du Vieux King of 2007, Chris Rose, and his wife. Chris, dressed as the Mad Hatter, laughed, joked, danced and posed for pictures with us, before we second-lined to the den with the Roses as our grand marshalls / guests of honor.

Once at the den, I ran into Slate (sorry, honey, I had to scoot and couldn’t find you later!), Adrastos & Dr. A, Mark Folse, Ashley, Blake, Dangerblond & Don Marshall and scores of friends unseen since last year. We had a great time dancing to the bands, checking out the other costumes, catching up and laughing about everything.

My favorite stretch of parade route is from the Bywater all the way through the Lower Quarter. The kids are delightful, especially the timid little ones who just don’t know what’s going on. That’s when you walk up, flash a big smile, hand out one of your best set of beads and bask in the tiny smile you get in return. Mardi Gras, to me, has always been about the kids that come out to see us – their requests for beads and toys are the most legitimate. How can you refuse those faces in their formative years? FYI, I am going to be the stuffed animal queen at King Arthur next Sunday. Warn your children!

Another bonus is seeing friends and loved ones along the parade route. This year, I saw Colette & Jenny, Sarah, Loki, Alexis, Blair, Rachel, Nonney, Komi, Beverly, TW, Andy and a bunch of colleagues. The look on colleagues’ faces when they realize it’s me is precious – “Oh my god, it’s Maitri!” or “Hey, we work with the girl in the top hat and fishnets!” We missed seeing John, Ismael and a few other friends in the Quarter, but whomever caught our attention got a decent booty.

This year, there was a bit of a downside. As I mentioned, we were the last float of Krewe du Vieux, as per the guidance of the (sketchy) statistics, on top of which the evening took forever. This is the slowest parade I’ve walked in in the last four years – beads, beer, sobriety were all gone even before we hit the Upper Quarter. Our float referees disappeared somewhere around Toulouse St. leaving the float pullers and me (one of my captainly responsibilities) to push the crowds aside lest they were trampled by said float. Tourists are dumb – after one of the pullers walked ahead of me and helped me push the crowd back, these same people would elastically force themselves back in onto the float. What part of You Are Going To Get Run Over do you not understand? When I told a fat woman with a hurricane to step back, she asked, “Where can I f***ing go?” To which, I replied, “Backwards, somewhere you obviously haven’t thought about.” As for protecting myself from over-eager Testosterone Monsters, I didn’t have to glare for more than two seconds before my big silverback of a husband came up behind me, stared them down and the yutzes shrunk back. Heehee, I feel so loved!

God love locals and their respect for floats and the human beings who walk with them.

Due to certain, ahem, waste management issues (one of them being the flooded ladies’ room at the sub-zero State Palace) and a very sore left arm, D and I broke away from our krewe and left for Fahy’s and a clean restroom, seats and dinner. Our heartfelt apologies to those we missed at the ball. We just couldn’t make it this year, mostly not when I was stone-cold sober, D was El Toro Del Incoherent Babbling and visions of bed floated in my tired, little head.

Pictures from Krewe du Vieux: Maitri, dangerblond, boxchain, Laureen, adrastos, Lisa and Stybbie.

Onto the rest of the season. D and I are in Krewe of King Arthur next Sunday.  Look for us Uptown on Float 16 – we’re leprechauns this year and it makes the Irishwoman in me sing Erin Go Bragh. While I really don’t want to miss Barkus, St. Charles Avenue beckons as do all of our friends on the float with us. Panorama Jazz Band will play on our float this year (they kinda played with Krewe de CRAPS last night as the band for Mishigas before us) and we promise a good time, chers! Also, as Loki said, between St. Ann’s parade and Chartreuse, we will all bump into one another in the Quarter. That’s it for this dispatch – off with you, back to your costumes!