Dear Mom and Dad,
Mardi Gras 1992 is over except for the hangovers. And the retrospective. Orleanians like to look back on Mardi Gras with as much fondness and fervor as they looked forward to it (which is only slightly less than the fervor with which they actually experience it).
According to newspaper reports, Carnival '92 was the biggest, most well attended ever. This conclusion was not achieved by anyone actually counting heads during parades or parties. Counting would interfere with the fun. And would require people to stay where they are, which also isn't fun. No, crowd size is estimated by the amount of garbage they produce to be cleaned up afterwards.
Early estimates are already breaking last year's record by 300 tons. This year's 2,500 tons of garbage includes 300 to 400 tons of aluminum cans. Whoa.
Parking violations also broke records. Ten thousand tickets were racked up by the party animals trying to find places close to the fun to park. Tow trucks hauled away 1,232 vehicles from in front of fire hydrants and driveways.
Jonesie and I tried to celebrate by not parking. We went to a Ball instead.
It is always interesting to see how the new Krewe Captain tries to outdo the old Krewe captain. Last year the theme was Faberge Eggs. I thought women dressed up as eggs would be hard to top, but I was wrong.
This year they went 3-D. Not with glasses. With their clothes. They appliqued 3-D objects onto the ostrich feather head dresses and their ball gowns. My personal favorite was a tribute to James Dean with part of a convertible emerging from brilliant pink feathers.
The people interesting, too. This year we sat next to a guy who seemed committed to consuming his body weight in champagne. Through the first three bottles he divided his attentions between me and his wife, but by the end of the fifth, Jonesie took his fancy. That's when Jonesie said we probably ought to Get Home to Our Children.
When Ash Wednesday dawned there was a shortage of hang over remedies and surfeit of news coverage. I heard one reporter ask this guy what he liked most about Mardi Gras.
"It's the one time of year you get to totally be yourself," he said.
Now I don't want to appear critical. I'm all for personal expression, but this man was wearing an oversized diaper and makeup. If that's who he is, I'd rather he just kept it to himself.
My own aftermath of Fat Tuesday is the same as always: What to do with all the fifty-plus plastic cups and twenty pounds of beads?
If you know anyone who might want them, supplies are NOT limited.
love,
pj
© 1992 Pauline Baird Jones All rights reserved.