Circling the U.S. Chapter 75: Mardi Gras Beads

Monday, February 24 - Wednesday, February 26, 2020 

What do you think of when you hear the words "Mardi Gras?" New Orleans, right?

I guess I never thought about it, but it never occurred to me that Mardi Gras would take place anywhere else. We quickly found out that Mardi Gras is celebrated throughout Louisiana in the weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday. In fact, people told us that the first Mardi Gras festival in the United States took place in Mobile, Alabama.

We talked to people, trying to get advice on where we should go to get the best Mardi Gras experience outside of New Orleans - larger city or small town? We decided to go with the smaller towns and, after researching the parade schedules of the towns and cities in this part of Louisiana, we settled on one in Patterson scheduled for Monday and then another one in Morgan City, on Tuesday (Mardi Gras).

Our plans made, with only 20 miles to Patterson, we enjoyed a leisurely morning before saying our good-byes to Russ and Paul.

The only hills in Louisiana were on the bridges. (You can see it in the background.) Otherwise, we rode along quiet, flat country roads.

The countryside was occasionally marred by industrial plants. Many of them processed liquid natural gas. With so many jobs based around the oil industry you can understand why people here don't embrace a green economy.

We arrived in Patterson around noon, just as vendors and a band were setting up in the town park. The parade was set to begin at two o'clock, but didn't get to us until three o'clock.

We walked around the small town, mostly residential with just a few businesses. The park had a new playground overlooking the river. Kids of all ages were out and about, on vacation for the week of Mardi Gras.

The band was terrific, playing great Zydeco music. While we listened to the music and waited for the parade we shared a plate of fried catfish and french fries, and an order of boiled crawfish with corn on the cob and boiled potatoes.

Trying to fit in, we had our beads and Mardi Gras colors on. 

Every parade is put on by a different krewe, which is a club that you join by paying dues and you pay money to ride in the parade. Every krewe has a king and queen. This was the Krewe of Amani parade. The queen is sitting in the back of the float.

And here comes the king.

Drinking appears to be a large part of the celebration.

The parade took about an hour to get to us and lasted about half an hour. It consisted mostly of floats playing loud music with people on board throwing out beads and other paraphernalia.

Rob's packrat genes kicked into high gear these two days when he grabbed every string of beads he could get his hands on. If not for me, he probably would have left Louisiana with at least an extra ten pounds of Mardi Gras memorabilia in his panniers. (Since I always have to wait for him, and I carry more weight anyway, I've appointed myself the gear czar. He's always trying to sneak extra junk into his panniers, but eventually I find it and make him throw it overboard. Some guy in a KFC gave him a metal belt buckle in the shape of a bicycle. That had to go.)

Plenty of beads don't make it around people's necks. Throughout Louisiana we would see them on the shoulders, even on highways, where I doubted parades would have been. Were they thrown out of car windows? 

We heard there was a block party after the parade where the Zydeco band would be performing so we went to check it out. We found it on a residential street crowded with people hanging out around barbecues and drinking beer. Music blared from speakers. We were the only white people in the crowd but no one looked askance at us.

The band was set up next to a bar in an enclosed garden. We would have had to pay to sit and listen. Because it was getting late and we still had some miles to ride, we decided to pass.

As we were walking our bikes through the crowd, a young woman came running up to us. "Y'all didn't hear us calling you," she said. "Come and have some chicken." We'd been sitting next to her family at the parade. We walked back and were introduced to her aunt and other family members. They served us just about the best barbecued chicken I've ever eaten, and beer to wash it down.

We spent the night at a Days Inn in Morgan City and talked about our plans for the next day. After enjoying a small town parade, we decided to press ahead to Houma which promised a bigger affair. We'd have to ride 40 miles to get there. The parade began at one o'clock, but we figured we could get to the later part of the route so we'd have enough time. I made a phone call and confirmed that we had a place to stay with a Warm Showers host outside of town. We'd have plenty of time to get to their place before dark. Little did we know. 

Tuesday, February 25, Mardi Gras, I had King Cake on my mind. On our way out of Morgan City I was heading straight for a donut shop at a T in the road. I had to stop. Rob, my accomplice, didn't complain. We shared a King Cake donut. 

I was taken aback when I saw the sign for this development: "Waterproof Plantation Estates." I asked Rob, What word do you think of when you hear the word "plantation?" He said, "slavery." Okay, maybe that's a northern bias. Maybe in the south people have moved beyond that history. So I asked a number of people that question and, in my informal survey, most people answer as Rob did. So why would  anyone use a word that has such negative connotations to name a housing development? Or want to live there? Maybe, just like the confederate flag and statues, it is so much a part of the culture that people don't even think about it.

We passed a number of beautiful homes with azaleas blooming. I looked forward to seeing spring open up before us as we made our way up the east coast in the next few months. Although we were following the coronavirus news. at that point we didn't think it would impact our trip.

We arrived in Huoma at 12:30 with plenty of time to spare. Someone told us the parade wouldn't get to us until three o'clock. We found a place to watch it right in front of the queen's reviewing stand. A police officer told us it was a good place. We thought so. We locked our bikes, set up our chairs, and wandered around looking for something to eat and watching people. It was a giant street party.

When I saw Charlie's jacket I knew I had to get a picture of him. We had great fun visiting with him and his wife Amanda while we waited for the parade. They spend their retirement working as bit actors in movies. Charlie had to show me pictures from all the movies he's been in.

Their granddaughter was one of the queen's attendants for that day's parade. That's her picture.

I heard someone say, "The first drunken casualty."

In this parade, the queen doesn't ride in a float. Rather, she waits  with her attendants for the king to arrive.

The queen will use the ramp to join the king on his float.

While the parade had started hours earlier, it didn't get to us until after five o'clock. Someone said a float had broken down. They said it happens all the time. Fortunately, we'd been in touch with Ray, our Warm Showers host, who said, not to worry about riding in the dark, he'd come get us.

The king arrived, the queen joined him, and there was a ceremony of some sort. We had no idea what it was all about.

The parade continued as darkness settled around us. Towards the beginning was a college band that stopped to perform, putting on an excellent performance, even as many of the musicians and dancers looked exhausted and hot. Then came many large floats with loud music and inebriated men throwing junk - mostly beads. Often, they threw bags of beads. Charlie told us that they hold back special things, like signature plastic cups and larger beads, for people they know. So he calls out a common name, "Hey, Michael!" Or Dave, or Tom. It worked at least once and a plastic toy came our way.

People told us that it can cost a couple thousand dollars to ride a float, and you have to bring along your own supply of beads. So what people do is they go to numerous parades where they pick up as many beads as they can - it's not hard to literally get piles of them - then they don't have to buy any.  

I was not impressed with the floats. Someone told us that the floats are often only slightly different from year to year. They just didn't seem all that creative or beautiful. Amanda said that we should come back, stay with them, and they will drive us into New Orleans for the Mardi Gras parade there, which is the real thing. Maybe some day.

I admit it. I thought the parade was a disappointment. But I'm glad we were in Louisiana for Mardi Gras and able to experience the holiday, from tasting the varieties of King Cake, to meeting people and seeing how they get so into dressing for it, and watching as Rob got caught up in the excitement of catching as many beads as he could get his hands on, and then helping one of our spectator neighbors fill her coffers of beads for the next year's celebration.

True to his word, when the parade ended Ray came and picked us up. The following day, Wednesday, February 26, we spent the morning working out our route into New Orleans and the afternoon wandering around Houma. We stopped by the post office to send home a box of beads. (We also left a pile for Ray and Vanessa's neighbor to use when she rides in a float next year.) We especially enjoyed the Finding Our Roots African American Museum located in the former Black high school.

In the evening Vanessa and Ray entertained us with tales of their many RAGBRAI (Ride Across Iowa) adventures traveling on the bus that Ray outfitted especially for that event.

Ray and Vanessa live in a tiny house about five miles outside of Huoma. They sleep in a loft above the living room and their daughter has a loft above the kitchen and bath. The bathroom has a full-size bathtub and tiny washer and dryer. The house was custom built with repurposed lumber and exquisite craftsmanship.

It was too cold and windy to sleep outside. I slept on the couch and Rob got the twin-size air mattress. It worked great.

I've been curious about what it's like to live in a tiny house. Thanks to Vanessa and Ray's generosity we got to find out. It was very cozy.

One of the first things Ray said to us was, "I wish I'd moved to Louisiana years ago. The people here are so friendly." It's true. Rob and I noticed that, unlike other places, people in Louisiana are more likely to say hello as we'd ride by their homes. When we were riding through one town, a car passed us really close and angrily honked its horn. Two people out in their yards called out, "I'm sorry."