I set out on a journey this weekend, one filled with several surprises. It was my first time to experience Mardi Gras, and my first time to visit the Mississippi Coast since Katrina.
Obviously, my friends and I went to the celebrations for selfish reasons-to have too much fun-but I left with the utmost admiration for all the people I met.
Fat Tuesday is the time to get out all your sinful ways before Lint, a time to gorge oneself on the finer things in life. And this year, more than ever, the Gulf Coast and New Orleans needed that time of excess. In the midst of all the debris, the Mardi Gras celebrations drew hordes of those whose spirits were damaged but not broken in August’s storm.
I experienced my first Mardi Gras tradition the first night of the trip. We stayed in Gulfport with the best hostess anyone could ask for. And she had a Mardi Gras tree decorated in gold and purple and tiny masquerade masks. It was then that I started to understand the amount of tradition and pride the locals took in this holiday.
The next day we went to New Orleans where shouts of “Happy Mardi Gras” echoed in my ears.
The entire city seemed to have the bug. Elaborate costumes and neck-loads of beads. People beamed with smiles, waiting for the parades to start. Not even the occasional rain shower could dampen their moods.
Later I walked into a home styled by New Orleans architecture. Within five minutes I was a stranger to no one. Instead, we were all joined together-partying, laughing, singing and dancing. The essence of the festivities floated in the air, and I was hooked.
After a parade of floats (mostly having themes with FEMA jokes) and my prize beads, we went to the French Quarter. Teaming with the masses, the Quarter was already hopping at 8 p.m. Believe it when you hear that it’s an experience like no other. Too much happened to recount, but the overwhelming positive vibe elevated all who came across it.
The next day we went to a parade in Pass Christian, proving that Mardi Gras doesn’t stop outside the New Orleans city limits. The attitudes of all the participants and onlookers generated more heat than the relentless Coastal sunshine. We shouted for beads, sang along with the songs and ate too much.
But all the joy was earned this year. Even in the midst of our rambunctious behaviors, no one could turn a blind eye to the devastation that happened just six months earlier.
The normally smooth beaches looked as though they had been tilled by giant machines.
Ornate houses, rich with Southern heritage, were abandoned, broken or completely demolished by Katrina’s unforgiving blows.
The site where we stood to see the parade was formerly an antique store. Only now it, like so many other beachfront business and homes, was reduced to a slab of concrete.
As one person put it, “It looks like a bomb just went off.” And it did.
However, I also saw the beach being transformed during the parade. Laughs shared between friends and families lightened the gloom, showing the unbreakable spunk these people have. They’re no longer victims of the hurricane, but are survivors.
Our hostess said the Coast needed Mardi Gras more than ever this year. I couldn’t agree more. After your world has been turned upside down, any degree of normalcy is welcomed.
Now, with a bad sunburn and bags of beads later, I don’t regret a minute spent on the Coast celebrating Fat Tuesday with some of the most amazing people I’ll ever meet.
So to our hostess (a.k.a. Debbie), to everyone who welcomed this North Mississippi guy to your Mardi Gras parties, to all the residents on the Coast who are taking it one day at a time and to everyone else, Happy Mardi Gras. I’ll see you all next year.
Dustin Barnes is a graduate student in French. He can be contacted at [email protected].