Monday, February 07, 2005

Motley Krewe

Motley Krewe

Today, a lady I work with brought in a King Cake. This has served to remind me that tomorrow is, in fact, fat Tuesday.

I don't know much about New Orleans. I've never actually been there, although I had to do some research once. Once upon a time, a few years ago actually, I was asked to photograph at the Krewe Zulu kickoff party and parade (they were trying to hire me to take candids at the party.)

For those who don't know, the Krewe's are the people who put together the parades. The parades are the place at Mardis Gras where you go, stand in line, and get beads tossed at you. The Krewes get dressed up in costume, fitting a theme, and toss out the beads.

The Krewes sometimes have giant (usually private) shindigs the night before, where the mayor of the City, sometimes the Governor, usually lots of celebrities, and whoever happens to be the latest and greatest on the "It" list show up in their finest and party down, in a private ballroom. Usually these are white tie affairs (think top hats and canes here, folks.) Had I known now what I didn't know then, I would never have passed up the opportunity to photograph the private Zulu Krewe party. It was probably stacked with Cristal to the gills, and I'm willing to bet the food would have been more than passable. I think I found out later on that Brad Pitt was there. But, hey, they weren't going to spring for a hotel room and I couldn't really afford the trip at the time so, I guess, it wasn't to be.

Someday, I'd like to go to Martis Gras. I'd like to see all the excess and debauchery, centrally located in one convenient place for my viewing pleasure. For now though, I'd be content making it to the city limits before it gets too hot. New Orleans is many things but, it's safe to say, it's a city you don't want to visit in the boils of summer.

Party on Fat Tuesday-ers. For tomorrow, the suns of lent shall rise yet again and you'll be out on your ear in a city that smells like urine and doesn't have any vacant hotel rooms to speak of. At least not any that you'd actually want to SLEEP in.

Until next time...

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