Mardi Gras 2006


2/26/06: John Burnett, NPR reporter. Tons more pictures of Mardi Gras on flickr. And Tom's got some great shots, too.

The events of the past week and a half have built steadily to the crescendo that is Fat Tuesday, with each day contributing stories that I'll remember and laugh about every year from now on when I think back to my very First Mardi Gras.

I've never felt so proud to be a New Orleans resident, to be able to tell the people we met in the street, "I live here. Do I like it? I love it!" Look at me - I've picked up saying "for" when indicating at what time I'll be ready, and I can (almost) distinguish between the accents of a person from Chalmette and Lafayette! I wound my way through back streets to avoid parade routes and, aside from one horrific traffic event when I slept in my car (I'll come back to that), I successfully navigated my relatively new home like a native.

For the past six days, this city has felt ALIVE, buzzing with the excitement of reveling in a tradition that has brought its disparate inhabitants together in some semblance of harmonious celebration every year for the past 168 years.

Party-goers own the streets for most of this time, though by most evenings the trash and un-caught beads have pretty much taken over. $6 Dominoes pizza boxes clutter the corners where sidewalk meets building, and hundreds of forgotten or undesirable throws are strewn hapharzardly about the neutral ground. New Orleans is a notably friendly town to begin with, but there's something about the child-like joy parades evoke (along with the endless supply of alcohol that is more ubiqitious here than water) that makes this place more like a cross between one big college town and the largest close-knit neighborhood block party you've ever seen. People here are just happy. And happy is a wonderful thing to see when blue tarped-roofs and water lines are still visible in the background.

The parades were absolutely amazing and the weather was perfect. We caught Thor on Wednesday in Metairie (the rest were all in Uptown), Muses Thursday (famous for being the only Krewe with an entirely female membership, and for throwing decorated shoes to the crowds), Iris and Tucks Saturday, Thoth, Mid-City, Bacchus, and Endymion (the two 'Super Krewes,' so named for being the biggest and best) on Sunday, and Zulu (it was ironic that the painted figures on their floats were white when it's the only all-black Krewe) and Rex today. The scale of the floats surprised me, considering I had been expecting rinky-dink, paper mached ones and not the huge monstrosities they turned out to be. The evening parades, with their elaborate lights and mechanized parts, were by far the best. If you're interested in more history or what Krewes are all about (it was foreign to me until several weeks ago): nola.com.

We camped out with a tent and a grill for Saturday's parades, and hung out with various other friends with connections to bathrooms and food for Sunday. Friday's festivities were centered on seeing the Rebirth Brass Band at Tipitina's on Tchop (AMAZING!! they also walked in several of the parades), and Monday was spent on the Cetco-sponsored balcony at the Royal Sonesta hotel on Bourbon. For the big day on Tuesday we watched the parades from the company's grandstand in front of our building (great view) and then went to the Acme Oyster House, which Halliburton had rented out for its private party.

The two vendor-sponsored events were amazngly cool, definitely one of the best perks of the job I've found so far. At the Royal Sonesta, there was an endless supply of beads to chuck at the people three floors below. We left the Square at 2:30 and stayed on the balcony until well past midnight, knocking full beers out of the hands of unsuspecting people, tossing beads into the convertibles that drove by, and consuming the free food and alcohol. At one point a target got annoyed that she had been hit and told a cop nearby, who promptly came up to our balcony and kicked someone off for throwing too hard (he was just the scapegoat, and ended up coming back out about 10 minutes later). I really enjoyed chatting with coworkers in the relaxed atmosphere that, though work related, was clearly socially oriented; it felt less forced and fake, less like you were trying to constantly impress someone or win their respect than at similar hand-shaking sorts of events in college. Oh! AND, while riding in the elevator back up to the suite guess who else was jammed with me and 7 others?!!? CHARLIE GIBSON!! Charlie Gibson, of Good Morning America fame! Someone else in the elevator recognized him first and said something, after which I asked if I could shake his hand -- and he said, "sure!" so I did!!! I SHOOK CHARLIE GIBSON'S HAND!!! I'd say I'm never washing it again, but that'd just be dumb after being on Bourbon street for so long.

I've eaten at the Oyster House once before and knew to expect good food, but I think it was even better today. I ate at least 4 raw oysters and 10 fried ones, plus fried shrimp and catfish and gumbo and rice and beans and sausage and hush puppies. It's fun to finally be at the point of being here long enough to where I could walk in and immediately see 10 people I knew besides the 5 I had come with. Ah, plus there was the random driller we had met Saturday night who happens to be a Halliburon person contracted out to us. But that story's for another post.

Sunday night while waiting for Endymion to start after Bacchus had rolled by (Endymion had postponed their initial Saturday start because of forecasted rain, which was hard to believe at 1pm when it was absolutely beautiful out, but sure enough at 3:30 on the dot when their parade would have started, huge drops started to plummet from the sky), our group was approached by a man with a mic, asking us if we were from here. We came to find out that he was John Burnett, AN NPR REPORTER for All Things Considered - I was estactic and star struck and immediately thought to ask him for a group picture after we all gushed about how WE ALL LISTEN TO NPR and talk about the stories in our car pools and over breakfast. He was pretty taken aback by this group of 7 early-twenties, fresh faced kids who were fawning over him - he told us, "Wow, we never get this kind of attention!" We didn't fit the profile of who he wanted to talk to (experienced Mardi Gras goers, which none of us were), so we weren't in his story, but it was sooooooooo cool to meet him. I was a giddy school girl for a solid 45 minutes and immediately called my mom and Jody to boast.

Endymion included some big names on their floats, including Willie Nelson, John Belushi, Dan Akroyd, Anderson Cooper, Elijah Wood and some others I can't remember (Bacchus had Michael Keaton), and ELIJAH WOOD TOTALLY THREW BEADS AT ME!! I caught several pieces of plastic spooled together by flimsy string that had been TOUCHED! by Elijah Wood. I was a giddy, uncontrollable school girl for another 2 hours.

Unfortunately, after we walked back to our cars parked at Gabe's in the Warehouse district (we had been watching Sunday's parades much further Uptown, a solid 30 minute walk down St. Charles) the parade had gotten to the area so all sorts of streets were closed and the traffic was not moving at all. Courtney and I were exhausted so we decided to take a nap in my car to wait out the parade, only to be woken up by several raps against my window from a rather large man yelling, "It's dangerous - you shouldn't be sleeping in your car!" He continued to yell with concern until we showed signs of clearly being awake and putting the car into 'drive'. I chose the most-trafficky way to get home (ugh! I was so frustrated) so it took me an hour to go the 7 miles home.

I especially liked walking everywhere we wanted to go, the impetus for which was the horrendous traffic everywhere (see above), and fully appreciated the great deal we have with our downtown parking contracts. We're allowed to use the parking garage we use for work ALL the time, including Mardi Gras, and it's literally 3 blocks from Canal and 2 blocks from Bourbon. Free. (well, not technically since we pay $25/month. but it feels free at times like these.) Having my office to leave stuff in and use the bathroom was key, too.

And now that I know what a party New Orleans is capable of, even post-Katrina, I can't wait for jazz fest, which includes Dave Matthews Band, World Leader Pretend, Jimmy Buffet, Kieth Urban, Cowboy Mouth, Bob Dylan, Ani DiFranco, and TONS of other famous jazz/funk bands! And I've got lots of space for visitors! :)

February has certainly been a whirlwind, and March is already sweeping me along - I'm going offshore for three days tomorrow. I'm excited for many reasons, but one of them is that I seem to get lots more sleep out there than when I'm here in my distraction-filled house. And I've slept about 15 hours total in the past 6 days, so I'll take every hour more I can get.

I've figured out what I'm going to do for Lent, something I'm excited to share but will have to wait until I get back because it's too important for me to try to describe through rapidly shutting eyes.

Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

Ah, I'm playing hooky right now and it feels WONDERFUL! I'm ocean colored this week; I'm normally on the Green schedule and would have today off, but since Danny's coming next week for Mardi Gras I switched my Fridays to have next week's Blue friday off, hence me being ocean blue-green. I scheduled an appointment for today two weeks ago before realizing I would want to work today, so instead of going in early, leaving and coming back, I'm chiling on my couch watching Dawson's Creek and feeling a much-need sense of renewal. I'll head in to work after the appointment and a quick jog at the gym.

It feels really nice to just relax, kind of sneak away from the world even if only for a few hours, and revel in the illusion I've always had since I was first conscious of mid-morning TV. Being able to watch TV between 8am and noon on a weekday has always represented the height of luxury to me, since it means you don't have to work or be at school; weekday mid-morning feels like found time to me, that you had to be clever and happy to find it nestled away between the more readily available early afternoon and the time slot reserved for the day's preparation. So relaxing at home right now feels like I'm rewarding myself with a little break for a long, hard-working week.

Sometimes I really need to catch up with myself, not in the lonely nighttime hours when I'm stuck in my head and fanciful day dreams like Zach Braff's character on Scrubs, but just doing nothing, thinking nothing, without feeling guilty for wasting time because this is my found time, my un-wasteable time.

Anyway, time to get ready. Thanks for the comment, Favorite Kyle! I'd be willing to share the internet with you, if you want - I know you'd treat it kindly and tenderly :)

Internet, will you be my Valentine?

I've always appreciated how you never fail to be there for me when I've needed you -- well, for the most part anyway, so long as my upstairs neighbor has a connection.

And Tommers, don't be silly. Not want to be your friend anymore? Ha! Who else could I ever possibly enjoy cutting king cake with as much as you?! :) And we've already dialogued offline about this issue, but to make sure it's captured I'll send you a note. hehehe

I have a new hero: Joey Cheek. Check out the npr story from this morning. I literally teared up this morning getting onto I-10, hearing about this regular guy who's using the platform that transforms him from a regular guy into someone with a voice to help many someones else. We can all do the same thing, on our own scale, finding our own platforms. In my inspiration, I've been brainstorming ways I can contribute like Joey is encouraging his sponsors to; since I feel empassioned by the same issues he spoke about (probably why I was so unusually moved this morning) - suffering in Sudan, etc. - I was empowered by his belief that his $25,000 will make a difference. Because that's usually where I'm stumped for optimism, wondering how the couple hundred dollars or even couple thousand I could donate would matter. But I'm slowly realizing that it's about the movement, being a part of a larger group of people who care to contribute, so that the movement grows and some sort of peace is waged. I don't have to make the whole pie myself, just a piece of it.

And I'm feeling better about only having the ability right now to "help" monetarily or with the small platform I've wedged myself onto within my own sphere of influence. I don't have to wait until I'm capable of one big push or ACTION to make a difference, it's the little things each of us do along the way that will make someone's life just a smidge better, even if it's only from knowing that somewhere, other people care.

I realize now that that was just a cheesy pep talk to myself. But, ah, internet, that's why you're my valentine. Because you love me for, not despite, my cheesy self-motivating pep talks. And I love you for your open willingness to submit to them. Thank you, internet.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Yay for gmail's new conversation tool! I can't remember what it's called, but I just had my first chat with a fellow logged-in gmail user. It's sneaky, this gmail chat feature, and doesn't allow me to avoid getting sucked into internet conversations like I do by not ever signing onto AIM anymore.

Apple and I (I'm testing out "Apple" for my bike's name; I like the contrast of Apple actually being a toasty blueberry color) went for a 45-or-so mile ride today (woo!) along the levee, from Audobon Park to past the New Orleans airport in Kenner and back. I stopped along the way to do sit ups and chat on the phone (there was much to be discussed post-last night's episodes), so including about 30 or so minutes of stopped time, I was out for 2 hrs, 50 minutes. When I started the ride it was about 35 degrees outside, and by the time I finished it hadn't really warmed up much. Most of me was alright with the intense wind and brisk air since I had bundled up well, with ear coverings, gloves, and four layers of clothing, but my toes were numb -- beyond numb -- by the time I hobbled off my bike to walk the last 10 feet to my car.

After lunch at the 'Bees with the usuals (including TOM who loves to see his name on the internet) we went to the annual Pecan Festival at a local church school. What a rewarding experience that was, to get pelted with silly string, get denied admission to the elphant-go-round ride, to lose to Tom at the roll-the-ball-to-make-your-car-win-the-race game, and to eat 25 cent homemade cupcakes!

To round out an exceptionally full Sunday (especially now that soccer season is over) we went to see Brokeback Mountain. Overall, a cinematically excellent movie. I'm still not sure how I feel about the actual story, though, as in my reaction to it or understanding of the bigger picture message (because it definitely felt like a message-y movie). D said it best, essentially, that the movie seemed to say that you either try to live your life following your heart and be punished / killed for it, or you bury your dreams and live a miserable existence. But we decided it's still worth trying to be happy. Maybe we're all fatally optimistic.

In my anger last night, I forgot to mention why we were out in the Quarter to begin with -- the very first parade of the Mardi Gras season, the Krewe de Vieux's "C'est Levee"! It was a racuous parody of the last 5 months of Katrina-induced craziness, with plenty of free condoms passed out along with the beads for good measure. And yes, I did catch 2 stings of beads, but, no, I didn't have to do anything other than smile for them. :)

I'm so excited for the festival season to finally be underway - this city seems to take on a special twinkle and there's an undercurrent feeling of boisterious cheer. Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

Ugh! I'm so angry!

You do not leave drunk friends with sober friends who are smaller than them, and then proceed to walk away to the car without EVEN TURNING AROUND. AT ALL.

Because then things like tonight happen, where I'm screaming, "TOOOOOOOOMMMMMM" like I've never screamed someone's name before, and Tom is wandering off into the drug-selling center of downtown convinced that he is more knowledgeable than I am about where the parking garage is. AND I KNOW WHERE THE FUCKING PARKING GARAGE IS.

He runs off in the opposite direction from where we should be going, and I'm feeling lost, knowing that physical strenght wasn't going to allow me to pull Tom in the right away, having just lost that battle, and not wanting to lose physical sight of where he's going, so I just call D and, as my throat catches, tell him I've lost Tom and can't get him to come with me. I HATE BELLIGERENT DRUNK PEOPLE.

So D comes to rescue me and Tom , we run a solid three blocks shouting out "TOM!! TOMMY!! TOMMERS!!" until we find him, oblivious, rambling (literally, like a newborn colt not yet sure how to use his legs in a coordinated fashion) talking to his own reflection in a store front. And D holds his hand the hold walk back to the parking garage. I am somewhere between fuming and holding back tears at this point, FURIOUS that NO ONE noticed we weren't with them, ABSOLUTELY LIVID that NO ONE cared enough to turn around and make sure Tom and Jen were still with the group. Friendship is demonstrated in actions in the worst, most selfish of times (ie when you're another sober person ignoring the sober people around you trying to ensure the safety of the trashed) and tonight proved to me one person that isn't worth being a friend, and reaffirmed the friendship of another.

At the same time, I've realized (yet again) that I NEED to find new friends, outside of this circle to hang out with. Too much drama has developed and it makes me feel awkward and wierd and I'm just not having fun anymore. I don't like knowing that people are talking about each other behind their backs. In the beginning it all seemed so perfect and innocent and happy and now we've all known each other too long and strange things are starting to happen. I depserately miss uncomplicated friendships. Where are you, H and D?

Nights like tonight also make me tempted to quit this uphill social battle of being a female engineer. There's a lot of talk in our mostly male dominated group about how easy it is to progress as a woman or a minority, but I have to say it better damn well be easier because every other part of this business, this business of life and living and making friends and connections and hanging out, is HORRIBLE and TOUGH and HORRIBLY TOUGH as a woman -- there's no group of friends to make and hang out with, and you only get invited to so many group events because they want to "hang out with the guys" and hit on women, and who wants a woman with them for that, even if she is a purely platonic work friend, she still doesn't have a penis. And so it's wierd, like there's still always this line whcih cannot be crossed because at the end of the day I can only be so androgynous and included in so many things. It makes me angry, frustrated, sad, upset, and sometimes just want to give up and do something easier. Because gosh darnnit I like being a woman and I want to enjoy my womanhood while I'm young -- I hate feeling like I can't every truly be myself because i'm still around work friends who will judge me and question my actions. in some ways, having a boyfriend would make things much easier because it would take that off the table, it would eliminate the potential for ulterior motives which i feel like people are always look for in your actions.

Ugh. I'm so angry inside and angry double because I know I probably won't ever do anything about this frustrations, other than trying to hang out with other people and remember what it's like to be carefree me with a sexuality and not a box around me - and remember that it's ok to have fun without always being drunk. The more I'm around genuinly WASTED people, the more I question why we do it to ourselves. I should go to sleep now. If I can fall asleep with all this anger pent up - I just want to yell at someone and make them realize what jerks they are!!! aaaaaaaa

I had a Driveway Moment tonight (for you non-NPR junkies out there: driveway moments), coming home from a run in Audobon Park with 3 friends from work. I stopped running after one loop (about 1.75 miles; plus the walk back to my car I probably was moving for about 2 miles) when the other three kept running because my shin splints have come back and it SUCKS.

I started to feel the creeping pain that warms my outer calves with a tingling, uncomfortable sensation about a month ago during a spinning class while standing in second position but I ignored it at the time. When I ride my road bike I don't do any standing up really (New Orleans tends to be pretty flat) so I don't feel any pain thankfully. And in the past few weeks I had been ok when running -- but tonight, since I was pushing it and really running so that I kept up with the three guys, I inflammed the shin splints and had to stop before my legs physically rebelled and collapsed like matchsticks refusing to defy gravity any longer. By the time I had limped far enough away from other people I stopped clenching my eyes and let the tears that seemed to come from a part of me I didn't control - I don't cry over things like this! I refuse to submit to my own physical weaknesses! - roll down my cheeks. It was sort of satisfying to feel the hot wetness distract me from the still numbing pain shooting up my legs.

On my slow, gimpy walk back to M's house I noticed that the left rear door of a suburban mom's SUV was open, with a jacket hanging over a child's carseat. I paused for a minute in front of the house, considered continuing walking by but turned, walked up to the palatial, stately house and rang the doorbell. Behind the giant wooden door I could hear a father instructing his young son the proper, safe way to open the door when you didn't know who was outside. When the big slab of a now dead tree finally swung open, it revealed a beautiful New Orleans style home glowing with the warmth of a happy family pitter-pattering around on real hardwood floors. The father's greatful expression was enough for me to know I did the right thing by stopping, but as I walked away the mother's voice carried from inside the house, "Make sure you check the car to see if anything's stolen."

I felt like I had been slapped in the face. Granted, she wasn't necessarily talking about the person at the door (she didn't see who rang) but the fact that here was a neighborly person doing the polite thing and the first thing that comes to the woman's mind is to check for robbers. So much for thinking the best of people and letting them prove you wrong.

But I made it to M's, hobbled up the stairs to retrieve my keys, and cursed my stupid shins the whole way home. The worst part is that I think the only way for the pain to go away is to rest my legs, ice them, and wait for some time to pass before straining them again with running.

I realized on my miserable drive home (when my shins hurt, it's like a malicious, vengeful warlord is using a rusty razorblade to slowly shave away microns-thick slices of the outer portions of my lower legs) that, besides the King Cake bakery B recommended today closing one hour prior to my arrival at the store, I tend to be much happier and in a generally better mood when I'm at work than when I'm not. And while I suppose I'm fortunate for that, it seems a litle backwards and makes me feel a little lamey-mclamesters.

Meh.

Right, so my driveway moment. Terry Gross was interviewing Senator Biden (Dem.) on Fresh Air and I was heartened to think that the next presidential race might include two people who I have grown to respect and enjoy listening to, Biden and McCain. Both are eloquent, show their concern for a country too defined by parties and not issues, and recognize the importance of things I think are important (hehe, a clearly necessary defining characteristic of a candidate I like)

You can check out the great interview here. Did you know Biden's first wife and baby daughter were killed in a car crash right before he took the oath of office when he was first elected Senator in the early seventies?

Thanks for the tips, guys! And I agree about the components, Livia, they're what I was thinking about before fit, which I realized was stupid especially since this is my first bike and I won't be able to recognize the incremental difference the components make in the way an experienced rider would. I haven't found the less savvy gearing mechanism of the 1000 to be frustrating or inconvenient yet, which is what I understand to be the main difference between the starter-type bike of the 1000 and the little-more-serious 1200 and its gearing mechanism.

I went to a spinning class tonight and was disgruntled with the experience. Aside from feeling like I was cheating on my new bike (which has yet to be named; when the right moniker comes to me, I'll just know it), the spinning bike didn't have nearly the same comfort as mine, which was finely-tuned for me by an expert, and bike time has come to be alone time for me so I felt strangely naked biking with other people again, feeling like they could all read the stripped emotions and thoughts I was sure were obvious on my face. And yes, we're definitely going to have to find some time (and place!) to ride together again now that I'll have properly working brakes and a bike that's not older than I am :)

So, I was really sad earlier tonight while blogger was down for repairs and I wrote this (below), which I feel slightly uncomfortable posting but which I'm going to post anyway to force myself to be accountable for my emotions. I don't want to let myself pretend like being sad sometimes doesn't matter because the emotion passes and the smile returns, because I should value my sorrow and what it helps me learn about myself just as much as I revel in my joys. So, against my own better judgement,

I want to know your lips approaching mine
with the promise that they’ll come again sometime
Will you tell me I’m beautiful and mean it?
Will you let me be sad and still wipe away my tears?

My life is at a distance, right now
if it felt more real the covers would be insurmountable
and I’d stay buried forever, cowering
so I keep my pain a more comfortable bit away

I just want to know that you care
but I want to feel okay with feeling sad and stepped on.
Then I cry a little bit
and suddenly life seems a little more manageable
and my resolve comes back and builds a little bit more of a wall.

Livia! I went into the store thinking I'd walk out with the (men's / "unisex") Trek 1200, but had done a little research on the WSD line and so when the sales guy told me they wouldn't have any 1200's in my size in the store for another week and asked if I wanted to try the WSD 1000, I figured, why not?

And I'm so glad I did! As cheesy as it sounds, from the moment I sat on the bike (they let Dan and I take a test ride through Uptown, the neighborhood around GNO Cyclery) it felt like I was riding a comfy cloud; it felt like I was part of the bike, working with it to move forward and not against it. The bike felt like an eager puppy out on its first walk in the park, urging me to go forward a little faster, a little faster. And this was in regular sneakers! So imagine my joy when I fell even more in love with the bike and its performance once I started riding with clipless pedals and my SPD shoes!

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just wrote a WHOLE LOT and blogger lost it. I hate Blogger and My Life. Hate. (and that's a strong word)

UGH!

I can't do it again.

Recap:

Bike = good for reasons I typed (somewhat eloquently, too; narrower handlebars, seat shaped for child-bearing hips, shorter stem, smaller overall) but were lost.

Friends coming to visit = wonderful for reasons I typed (I'm LONELY and MISS uncomplicated friends who care and listen and talk) but were lost.

Superbowl watching = fun and heartening to watch for reasons I typed (the joy of happy people that renews my sometimes-failing optimism that pure happiness does still exist) but were lost.

James Blunt = amazing to listen to for reasons I typed (listen 3 x day and still makes me want to cry every time) but were lost.

ugh.