Pearl River For decades I’ve been paraded-out when it comes to Mardi Gras, and, in general, to tell the truth, Mardi Gras-ed out. For years, I would use the four or five days of New Orleans stalemate to hit the road for meetings and explorations in other countries where there was, or might be, ACORN interests, like El Salvador or Venezuela. This year, I’ll catch an early plane out for Delhi in route to Katmandu and the meetings over the World Social Forum. It’s like that for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention and monitor the local phenomena closely.
` At one level, none of us who live in New Orleans have a choice. Not paying attention to the parade routes can get someone in a world of hurt, stranded in gridlock for hours. Natives and quick learners scour the local newspapers, (yes, we still have the pretense of one), to plan elaborate routes that Google Maps would probably be willing to pay to access. Something that’s different from my time in high school in New Orleans though is that this exercise is no longer just New Orleans and maybe something random in a neighboring parish. Mardi Gras has become the dream of every chamber of commerce for miles around in Louisiana of course, but also in Mississippi.
On the Gulf Coast every town, one after another in Mississippi all the way to Mobile, which sometimes likes to claim their fair city invented the celebrations, seems to have a parade. There’s a boat parade in Slidell across Lake Ponchartrain and more. Pass Christian, Biloxi, and Gulfport seem to have parades. Driving about, I saw a reviewing stand on Highway 90 at the border of Waveland and Bay St. Louis. Someone waiting in line behind me with her baby decked out in costume said she was going to something in Diamondhead, which I didn’t realize was really a town as opposed to a subdivision of some kind. If there’s money to be made and locals willing to pony up and finance the free show, in this part of the country, the parade is on!
It’s not just local businesses that have spread Mardi Gras everywhere, it’s also younger folks and transplants. Living in the city along the river and the 9th ward, Mardi Gras was once just the turf of the local Indian clubs. Now, Lucha might be barking and I will look outside and see a couple of hundred people walking through the Bywater in costumes or in louche disarray. With or without permits, different clubs, krewes, and parades seem to spring up – and die – every year. One will have tiny shoebox floats, another will let the dogs out, and some will be satirical on the racy side.
Visitors beware. You can’t map all of these, because many don’t make the papers. Luckily, they are smaller, so if you’re caught, it’s less gridlock. Even for someone as jaded as me, the wait isn’t long, and it still allows me to say, “Oh yeah, I saw a lot of parades over Mardi Gras,” whether I meant to or not.