CCJC Audio Podcast Episode 00052, Season 2
From Rivalry to Revelry: The Mardi Gras Night That Sparked a City's Spirit
OK, picture this – It’s our usual hot, sweaty Louisiana night, the kind where the mosquitoes are singin’ backup to the American Bullfrogs jug-o-rum shout out and Dog Day buzzing cicadas. You are sittin’ on the porch with the rest of the family, sippin’ Bayou nectar sweet tea, and listening to the rocking chair raconteurs. They’re talking all things Mardi Gras Krewes, for you out-of-town tourists.
Now a few years back, the air was buzzin’ like a swarm of Western Honeybees, after a Louisiana Black Bear, named Antoine Rene, made the news when he tried to rob their honey spot. They were sayin’ there might not be future Mardi Gras parades because of all of the heated competition between various Mardi Gras krewes! T’imagines-tu? Can you even believe it? Like, zero parades ever again. Nada. Zilch. That’s a nightmare worse than Louisiana runnin’ out of crawfish to boil!
OK. Well, we’ve had years when Mother Nature threw a hissy fit and rained out our parade, literally. Of course there were times when Uncle Sam needed everyone’s attention and we skipped a few years. Mardi Gras had to take a backseat then. Heck, we even had one year when a sneaky virus bus no bigger than the tiniest gnat shut the whole thing down. It was like someone put a “Do Not Disturb” sign not only on Louisiana but the whole world.
Here at the Cajun Chronicles Podcast Corporation, you could say that’s just us, tellin’ made up stories. We know what it’s like to miss out on the magic of Mardi Gras. Some of us, well . . . let’s say, we’ve seen more King Cake than parades. That’s why we love listening to our elders. They pull up their rockers or settle into their porch swings, and spin raconteur yarns about Mardi Gras’ of the past, like it was the best Z'herbes gumbo in the world.
Just sayin’ this latest porch inspired story going trending is sweeter than a Pâte à Choux beignet covered in extra powdered sugar or honey.
Mardi Gras: Celebrate Together, No Matter What!
A ways back, the whole mess started with a rouge flambeaux marcher. Not just any flambeaux torch carrier, mind you. This one carried by a bumbling enthusiastic, possibly slightly inebriated Monsieur Alphonse, a member of the Knights of Babylon. This flambeaux, fueled by an experimental blend of pine tar and extra-strength Aquanet hairspray (a secret recipe passed down through generations from the 1960’s teased bouffant hair days), so Alphonse claimed.
For whatever reason, Monsieur Alphonse decided to take a detour. He led the entire Knights of Babylon Krewe astray when he careened into the staging area for the Knights of Chaos. This set off a crucial satirical float afire - its giant papier-mâché effigy of NOLA’s newly installed parking meters that strangely resembles a certain unpopular big-bellied politician ablaze.
“Chaos!” Bellowed the Dictator of Krewe d’Etat, who despite his anonymity, was also known for his surprisingly high-pitched falsetto shriek when it started. “This is an outrage! A blatant attack on all Krewes' right to satirical ridicule!”
The flames now licking at the parking meter’s coin slot, illuminated the approaching Krew of Muses. They were, as always, a vision of glitter and high heels. But tonight, their usually impeccable composure was ruffled. “My hand-decorated shoe collection!” cried M. Ima- Muse-take. She pointed at a smoldering pile of glittery Violet Vortex purple pumps near the Chaos Krewe’s float.
“Those were limited Harry Winston designer editions! Each one individually bedazzled with the tears of a heartbroken reality TV contestant! They were on loan to us and worth millions in donations for us to help children’s art programs in New Orleans.”
The King of Krewe Hermes, ever the swift messenger, arrived on his Lipizzan white horse, Astro. His neon-lit float casting an eerie glow on the scene. “By the wings of Hermes,” he exclaimed. His voice is amplified by a vintage glow-in-the-dark megaphone. “What manner of pandemonium is this?”
Meanwhile, the Knights of Babylon were attempting to extinguish the flames with their ceremonial, mule-drawn King’s float, which unfortunately was also carrying a large quantity of highly flammable cotton candy clouds. The situation was escalating rapidly.
The Dictator of Krewe d’Etat, still fuming, mistook Muse’s bedazzled shoe for a weapon and launched into a satirical tirade, accusing her of “weaponizing footwear.” The Muses in retaliation began throwing their signature glitter bombs. This of course, thanks to a freak gust of wind, landed squarely on Herme’s neon-lit float, causing another spectacular, chaotic bigger light show.
The quick-witted Knights of Chaos, seeing an opportunity for some real-life satire, began incorporating the burning parking meter into their parade route. They renamed it, “The Phantom Parking Meter of Political Doom.” The Knights of Babylon, realizing their cotton candy clouds were now a liability, began throwing it into the crowd in lieu of beads. Thus creating a sticky-icky sugary blizzard.
Above the chaos, a single voice rose above the din. It was an old, grizzled flambeaux carrier, a ghost veteran of countless Mardi Gras parade nights. “Enough!!!” he bellowed, his voice shockingly loud and strong. “We’re all here for the same reason — To Celebrate! To Revel! To Throw Beads and eat King Cake until we can’t feel our future neuropathy toes!”
Surprisingly, his words resonated. The Muses realizing their glitter bombs were more effective as peace offerings, began distributing it generously. The Knights of Chaos, inspired by the spirit of unity, incorporated Hermes’s neon lights into their “Phantom Parking Meter of Wanna-Be King Doom.”
The Knights of Babylon having exhausted their alcohol-infused cotton candy supply, began sharing their secret recipe for Aquanet hairspray-fueled flambaux torches, promising a truly spectacular light show.
Now, it’s rumored that after that one chaotic Mardi Gras night (of which no one can agree upon the date of when it actually or if it happened) filled with smoldering parking meter effigies and glitter covered streets, taught all the highly competitive Krewes to become united. They coordinated their floats, their throws, and their unique brands of madness. They created the most spectacular, most unforgettable Mardi Gras parade New Orleans had ever seen.
The Dictator of Krewe d’Etat even cracked a smile, a sight so rare it is still rumored to cause spontaneous King Cake eruptions. As the last bead back then was thrown that night, and the last flambeaux flickered out, everyone agreed. This was the best and most chaotic Mardi Gras ever. Together, united in agreeable healthy competition they had saved Mardi Gras from being a forbidden public parade.
Our tales are inspired by real Louisiana and New Orleans history, but some details may have been spiced up for a good story. While we've respected the truth, a bit of creative license could have been used. Please note that all characters may be based on real people, but their identities in some cases have been Avatar masked for privacy. Others are fictional characters with connections to Louisiana.
A Word of Wisdom:
As you read, remember history and real life is a complex mix of joy, sorrow, triumph, and tragedy. While we may have (or not) added a bit of fiction, the core message remains: the human spirit's power to endure, adapt, and overcome.
© Jerilee Wei 2024 All Rights Reserved.
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