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Chapter 10
February 12, 1999
A HISTORY OF MARDI GRAS
A series for the Loyola VOICE by Lizzy Boudreaux
Mardi Gras is famous
for the highly decorated floats from which the masked krewe members
toss throws to the people. What most visitors do not realize
is that only a few krewes - Rex, Zulu, and the super-krewes -
actually own their floats. All the others rent them from float
builders, like Blaine Kern Enterprises. The floats are kept in
several large warehouses in the area called "dens"
and are decorated to match the krewe's theme.
Of course, this
is Mardi Gras, and "decorate" is loosely defined. Most
floats have some sort of large figure, usually a head. Decoration
can be minimal, depending on budgets. Therefore, it wouldn't
be rare for a smallish krewe whose theme was U.S. Presidents
to have Abe Lincoln's head on a float for mermaids. It's Mardi
Gras! Who really cares?
Now, I'm not talking
about the big guys - the super krewes or the Mardi Gras Day monsters.
Those guys take float decorating seriously. And they've got the
money to made sure it's done right - all the way down to the
costumes worn by the maskers.
Maskers are supposed
to throw away from the street, for the safety of the revelers.
However, this is loosely enforced. Police will stop a float if
riders are hanging over the side or encouraging children to run
alongside. Anything else is fair game. Children and young women
seem to get the bulk of the throws, especially if the women are
skimpily attired…
~*~*~
Hermes and Le Krewe
d'Etat were the entertainment on Friday. The group gathered on
the neutral ground in the center of St. Charles Avenue. They
were safe from the streetcars, as they stopped running several
hours before the parade. The ladders were another question.
Several years ago,
some parents discovered that holding your child up on a ladder
during a parade gave the child a much better view, and they caught
more beads. Someone came up with a seat that could be affixed
to the top of the ladder. An entrepreneur started mass-producing
the seats. Before you could say "free enterprise,"
Mardi Gras routes everywhere were infested with ladders.
It wasn't just one
or two. Each ladder could hold two small children. So, if a family
had three kids, they needed two ladders. And one for their niece.
And a couple more for their in-laws. A forest of ladders arose.
The structures ranged
from eight to twelve feet high. One would think that, at those
heights, the ladders could be place away from the curb, but then
you would not be making an allowance for human nature. One of
the unwritten laws of parades - Mardi Gras or otherwise - is,
"Get the kids as close to the action as possible. Safety
is a secondary issue. Courtesy is not to be considered."
With a wall of ladders
in the way, all the non-ladder folk were just out of luck if
they actually wished to see the parade. Desperate times called
for desperate measures. Those with kids got their own ladders,
and a ladder "arms race" broke out. Others had to erect
platforms in the yards along the parade route - that is, if they
were lucky enough to live on the route.
The other poor slobs
had to either search for "ladder-free" zones or stake
out their territory hours in advance; but they had to be careful
- the ladder-people were relentless. They were known to seize
sites along the route by chaining their ladders to light poles.
Of course, the city
officials tried to do something about the issue. They passed
ordinances mandating that the ladder be the same distance from
the curb as the ladder was high. This rule was immediately ignored.
Police would advise people to move the structures, but they rarely
enforced the law - parents of young children tended to be locals
who voted, and it would not do to cause trouble for members of
the City Council. Only one law was strictly enforced - teams
of city workers, armed with chain cutters, would descend upon
the parade route during the night, confiscating any ladder foolishly
attached to any piece of city property.
The people would
bitch and moan - and buy a new ladder. The war would go on.
~*~*~
Parade time approached,
and the crowd ventured forth to claim their spot along St. Charles
Avenue, the men carrying the supplies. Emma was exceedingly proud
of herself - Jane and Chuck had not stopped talking since they
were introduced.
"I see that
worked," a male voice came from behind her.
"See what,
George?"
"Your very
obvious match-making between Chuck and Lizzy's sister."
She turned to him.
"Take that back. I was NOT obvious."
George laughed.
"If you say so."
"Anyway, it
worked. Just look at them."
George nodded. "Anybody
can get lucky, Em."
"Humph! Luck's
got nothing to do with it. I'm just very talented at this, and
I'll prove it to you. I've already scoped out my next triumph."
"Oh? Who's
the victim?"
"Lizzy and
Will."
George raised his
eyebrows at her. "You're trying to set up Will Darcy? Good
luck with that. Hope you like eating crow."
"We'll see
who'll be eating crow. How do you like it - stewed or fried?"
"Whatever.
Where do you want this ice chest?"
They secured a location,
and the group waited for the first siren, indicating that the
NOPD escorts were close by. The party broke up into several loose
groups: Chuck and Jane were joined by Lizzy, Will, Chris and
Carrie, who'd been released from her kitchen duties. Henry and
Cathy were with a younger group of AIs and their dates. Emma
stood back to take it all in, her father and George nearby. Mari
seemed to be on the outskirts, looking around.
Looking for John, thought Emma.
Somebody turned
on a boom-box.
"The Green
room is smoking, and the Plaza burning down
Throw my baby out the window, let the joint burn down
All because it's Carnival Time,
Oooooohhh, it's Carnival Time!
Oh well it's Carnival Time and everybody's having fun!
The allspeed
is rocking from one side to the other
The joints are jamin, packing, and I'm bout to smother
All because it's Carnival Time,
Oooooohhh, it's Carnival Time!
Oh well it's Carnival Time and everybody's having fun!
Right now, it's
Carnival Time,
Oooooohhh, it's Carnival Time!
Oh well it's Carnival Time and everybody's having fun!"
A shout and wave
from the girl proved her quest was not in vain. John ambled up
with a tall, rangy companion.
"Holy…"
breathed Henry. "Tommy! Hey, everybody - It's Tommy! Tommy's
back!"
"Well if
you put a nickel, well now, I put a dime now
We can get together now and drink us some wine
All because it's Carnival Time,
Oooooohhh, it's Carnival Time!
Oh well it's Carnival Time and everybody's having fun!"*
As one, the party
descended upon Tom Bertram, full of shouts and handshakes and
slaps on the back. Cathy and others made sure there were a few
kisses on the cheek, as well. Only Mari and John moved away from
the reunion.
"Hey, baby…"
John reached for Mari, but she rebuffed him.
"You're late,
John - where were you?"
John was taken aback.
"Umm…I had to bring Tommy; it's his fault…"
What are you questioning me for?
Mari held up her
hands. "Enough, John. It's always somebody else's fault!
No - don't touch me."
"Aw, c'mon,
baby…don't be mad."
"I am mad.
I've been waiting for you for over an hour. John, I'm real tired
of this. If you want to be with me, you have to start keeping
your word."
John blew up. "Shit!
Mari, you…you just don't understand! Sometimes…sometimes
stuff just happens! I can't help it!"
"You could
have called."
"But…but
I didn't think we were running that far behind. I thought…"
"No, John.
You didn't think. You didn't think of me."
"What are you
talking about? I think about you all the time." Usually
in some sexual position.
Mari stood with
her arms crossed over her chest, looking daggers at John. For
his part, John was fighting not to show the anger he was feeling.
How can this be my fault? I'm the victim here!
Instead, he assumed
his most pitiful expression. Ultimately, Mari broke first with
a sigh. "John, I don't wanna get into a fight tonight. Let's
just enjoy the parade. But I expect you to treat me better in
the future."
It sounded like
an ultimatum to John. He licked his lips and seemingly capitulated,
"I'm sorry, Mari. I promise this will be the last time.
I'll be on time, I'll call if something happens - that's the
way it's gonna be from now on. I'll try to do better."
"All right.
Let's join the others." Mari turned and walked towards the
crowd still surrounding Tommy.
John was seething.
He knew his chances of sleeping with Mari that night were toast.
Frigid bitch! Everything happens to me!
The tête-à-tête
went unnoticed by almost everybody in the crowd, except for one
medical student.
~*~*~
The wail of the
police sirens recalled the party's attention to the reason they
were standing in the middle of the St. Charles Avenue neutral
ground, where on almost any other night, the streetcar would
be rolling. The most important vehicle led the parade - the power
company truck outfitted with a probe to check the clearance beneath
the canopy of live oak limbs. As the crowd thinned out, Tommy
was left alone with Will and Lizzy.
"Bertram,"
offered Will as he shook the younger man's hand, "welcome
back."
"Thanks, Will.
It's good to be back."
Will nodded. "So,
are you coming back to school?"
"Gonna try
to, next fall. Gotta work on my recovery. I'm working this term
and going to NA."
"NA? That's
wonderful, Tommy," responded Lizzy.
"Where are
you working?" asked Will.
"Popeye's on
Napoleon and Claiborne. I'm off tonight, but I gotta work through
the rest of Carnival. We sell a lotta chicken over Mardi Gras,
dude. Whoa!" He bent and picked up a doubloon that had just
missed his head with a grin. "Gettin' dangerous out here!
Anyway, I'll be putting in twelve-hour days startin' tomorrow."
Will nodded again.
"You got to do what you got to do, Tommy."
"Yep."
Lizzy touched his
arm. "Well, I think you're going to be just fine, Tommy.
We'll be praying for you."
"Thanks, Lizzy."
Will looked Tommy
right in the eye. To his satisfaction, Tommy didn't flinch, but
returned the look. You have a chance, Tommy, William thought.
Aloud he said, "Good luck, Tommy."
Tommy knew Will
had been sizing him up. "Thanks, Will." With nothing
else to say, Tommy waved and strolled up to where the younger
people stood.
"Boy's got
a tough row to hoe," Will said.
Lizzy turned to
him. "But he'll make it - don't you think?"
Will shook his head.
"Recovery from alcohol or drug dependency is real hard,
Lizzy. Most don't make it. Relapse rate's sky high."
"But Tommy
will make it!"
"Maybe."
As they talked, Carrie and Chris approached.
Lizzy stared at
Darcy with surprise. "How can you be so cynical about your
fraternity brother? Don't you believe in him at all?"
'Cause my Grandfather
Fitzwilliam died an alcoholic, Elizabeth. But a private man like William Darcy would not
say that aloud. "We'll see. I'll be pulling for him, but
I won't get my hopes up."
"Jezze, you're
a hard-ass, Darcy!"
Will's response
died on his lips as a whining Carrie grabbed his arm. "Enough
of this! C'mon Will, let's get back to the parade." William
allowed himself to be dragged off, with a searching look at Lizzy.
Chris sidled up
to Elizabeth. "I'd cut the boy a little slack, Lizzy. There
are things you just don't know - things that make him the way
he is."
"Oooo…sounds
like a story there. Care to dish?"
"Not my story
to tell, Liz."
Lizzy allowed a
small smile. "Well, he is your best friend, so that must
count for something."
Chris chuckled and
rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, well…Will can be
a stick-in-the-mud, sure. But if the chips are down, there's
nobody I'd trust more. One other thing - you think Will's tough
on others? Maybe. But that's only because he holds everybody
to the same standard he holds himself. If Will's a hard-ass to
anyone, it's Will Darcy."
~*~*~
Music and merriment
filled the mild nighttime air along St. Charles. The floats,
pulled by small tractors, rolled sedately down the famous avenue,
lit up from head to stern with bare electric bulbs. The maskers,
in varying shades of inebriation, were filling the air with beads,
doubloons, and other trinkets. They tended to throw toward pretty
girls, and it was a testament to Alpha Iota's ability in attracting
good-looking ladies that the group got far more than its share,
even without anybody lifting their tops.
The marching bands
were playing everything from Mardi Gras standards to badly arranged
versions of current top-forty hits. The famous live oaks of Uptown
and the Garden District were festooned with stray strings of
beads. It was if the old lady that was New Orleans had put on
her cheapest costume jewelry and joined in the fun.
The city's dance
studios were out, too. The girls, varying in age between six
and fifteen, wore their skimpy costumes and half-danced, half-marched
in step behind a van or pick-up truck, blasting out hip-hop.
It was something only a mother could love.
Lizzy had retreated
to the group's collection of ice chests to get a cold soft drink.
Bored, a couple of the guys were tossing around a Nerf football.
As Pat Patel was stumbling after a long throw, a small child
walked out of the crowd, directly in his path.
Before Lizzy could
scream a warning, Will Darcy appeared out of nowhere. He blocked
the child with his body, sending Patel to the earth. Will was
hit hard, but he refused to move, holding himself on one knee
and his hands, grimacing in pain. The little black girl was scared
stiff, staring at her savior with wide eyes.
Chris had arrived
and knelt by the girl, talking in soothing tones to her as he
turned repeatedly to his friend. Lizzy ran towards them. A few
steps away, Will made a gesture that she should look after Patel
instead. He then turned his attention to the child.
Lizzy, assisted
by Pat's playing partner, soon were assured that Patel was uninjured.
Her eyes flew to the others, and she watched Will and Chris talk
gently to the frightened girl. She was obviously lost, and Will
stood up to scan the crowd. After a moment, he looked down and
called the others' attention to something to their right. Lizzy
looked over as well, and saw a large black man in the early stages
of panic, walking along the back of the crowd, head whipping
around, calling out to someone.
The girl nodded,
and Will and Chris rose and walked her by the hand towards the
man. He gave a shout of relief and seized the child, holding
her high in the air before clasping the girl to his chest, kissing
her. The man shook hands with both Chris and Will. Will paused
to share a few words with him, one hand on his shoulder and the
other shaking hands with a now happy little girl. He laughed
and gave the girl the longest string of beads from around his
neck and took his leave of them.
Will only walked
a few steps before he was joined by Elizabeth and Chris. "Are
you all right, Will?" she gasped.
Will groaned. "I'll
feel it in the morning, but I'll live, Boudreaux. How's Patel?"
Lizzy reported that
Pat had suffered no damage to anything but his pride. "He
didn't know what had happened, at first, but he was grateful
for what you had done when he saw that little girl. Was that
her daddy?"
"Yeah. He told
me she has the habit of wandering off. He was really scared."
"I'll bet he'll
keep a closer eye on her from now on," Chris said.
"He told me
he's gonna keep her on a leash." Darcy winced, "Man,
I gotta work this out. Didn't know Patel could hit so hard. My
shoulder hasn't felt this bad since that last playoff game against
John Curtis."
"Want a beer,
Will?" Lizzy offered.
"Yeah, I think
that would help."
"Help him over
to the folding chairs, Chris - I'll be right back." She
gave Will a smile and moved quickly to get a beer. Not knowing
what he liked, she grabbed a Bud. When she turned to hand the
brew to Will, she saw that Carrie had noticed that he had gone
missing and had found him. She was in the chair next to him,
rubbing his arm and expressing her horror that he had been hurt.
Something made Lizzy
take the chair to the other side of Will as she handed him the
Bud. Will barely looked at it as he popped the top and took a
sip. "Thanks, Lizzy," he said, his eyes pleading with
her to get rid of Carrie.
"Shall I get
Jane to check you out?" Though I don't think she can
give the TLC Carrie wants to offer.
"No, it's all
right. Let her enjoy the parade." He looked over towards
the street and lifted his eyebrows. Jane was up on Chuck's shoulders,
screaming for beads. The two women to either side of Will felt
their jaws drop. "I think she's having fun, don't you?"
"Umm…excuse
me for a second." said Carrie as she got to her feet. Oh
my god, had Chuck fallen in love again? She strode
directly towards her brother with the nurse on his shoulders.
Chris took the chair
vacated by Carrie. "You can close your mouth now, Lizzy."
"Wow,"
Lizzy breathed. "That's…SO not like Jane." She
shook her head. "She's a big girl, and Chuck is a nice guy.
So, you're right. Let her have some fun." She took a long
pull on her Diet Coke, anyway. This had been an interesting
night. Jane, Tommy…and Will. She glanced at him from
the corner of her eye. Just who are you, Mr. William Darcy?
I still can't quite figure you out.
~*~*~
The group had broken
up after the last float passed by, the large mechanical street
cleaners doing their job. All agreed as to where they would meet
Saturday - the parades would not be on St. Charles again until
Sunday. George walked the Weinbergs and their guests to the door,
the ice chests having already preceded them. Abe and Jane went
into the house after saying goodbye to the doctor, and now it
was Emma's turn.
"Goodnight,
Em - it was a lot of fun."
Emma gave him another
peck on the cheek. "You gonna to meet us on Canal Street
tomorrow, or do you want to pass by here and come with us?"
George shook his
head. "Can't - I'm on duty for the next couple of nights.
No parades for me." At Emma's surprised pout, he smiled
and leaned closer. "I'll come by Mardi Gras Day, okay? Bright
and early."
"All right
- if you'd rather hang out with a bunch of sick people than us
- that's fine. We'll still let you in on Tuesday."
George grinned.
"Good night, Emma. See you Tuesday." For a moment
he paused, as if he were going to move in and return her kiss,
but on her mouth rather than her cheek. His eyes were on her
lips, so inviting…so temping.
Emma's eyes grew.
Is he going to kiss me? She was rooted to the spot; she
couldn't move if she wanted to.
George hesitated.
He froze there, unsure of her desires. C'mon, meet me half-way.
Show me you want this.
The moment was only
a breath long, but it seemed to last forever.
Then it was over
- George straightened up and took a step back. "Good night,
Emma," he said again, in a much lower voice, before turning
and going down the steps to the sidewalk for the trek to his
car.
Emma thoughtfully
watched him walk down the street through the half-closed front
door.
~*~*~
* - "Carnival
Time" by Al Johnson
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