Mardi Gras Gone Wild

Have you ever wanted to get really drunk and stand on the side of the road for thirteen hours, just for the chance to get a few beads made in some sweatshop in Indonesia? What, really, you haven’t? Well, you should avoid Louisiana at all costs, because that’s exactly what’s happening right now as we get in gear for Mardi Gras.

I know you’ve heard of Mardi Gras, but I’m a sucker for using definitions to make up word count, so here goes: Mardi Gras is French for “Fat Tuesday,” the day before the 40-day Lenten season begins. It’s meant as a day of over-indulgence, the idea being that you get all of those pesky urges and temptations out of the way by allowing yourself one last day to eat, drink and pass out in a puddle of someone else’s wee.

At least that’s the impression I get from New Orleans. You remember New Orleans, right? Built on a sand bar? Target for natural disasters? Home of the Saints? They hold the largest Mardi Gras celebration of the year, a long, drunken debacle that features some of the weirdest traditions of the whole event.

The King Cake

I can get behind this part of Mardi Gras. It’s a giant cake that has a little plastic baby in it. Someone gets the piece with the baby, and they have to host the next party and provde the next king cake. This tradition comes from pre-Renaissance France, when giant babies roamed the countryside and ate peasants. This is our way of getting back at them while eating waaaaaay too much cake.

The Hurricane

Mardi Gras in New Orleans means lots of heavy drinking, and there’s no more efficient hooch, in terms of ability to get you drunk per dollar, than the hurricane. A hurricane is a spash of lime, a drop of passion fruit juice, and a gallon of rum. Drink one of these, and you’re ready to take on New Orleans. Drink another, and you’re ready to level New Orleans and cause FEMA to move in for a few months. They’re the primary cause of the next Mardi Gras staple.

The Beads

You’ve got to be good and drunk to think it’s a good idea to stand around for a few hours in hopes of grabbing a few beads, but that’s what hundreds of thousands of people do every Mardi Gras during the parades. I don’t see much point of parades in the first place: I would rather be entertained where it’s nice and warm, say inside. But these people love parades, and go nuts over the beads.

As the floats go by, people throw beads to the crowd. Some are incredibly ornate: a friend once received Spongebob Squarepants beads, with each bead the size of a golf ball. Most are just cheap strings of plastic balls that are slung to drunk bystanders at speeds approaching Mach 3. Maybe that’s why people get so drunk: it won’t hurt when you get whacked upside the head with a set of beads.

Oh, and that thing about women baring it all to get some really good beads? Totally true. The supply/demand ratio for breasts is incredibly skewed during Mardi Gras.

All The Rest

There are other traditions, to be sure. There’s also a load of religious significance to most of these traditions, significance I can’t be bothered to recall, since I wasn’t born Catholic. All I know is, Mardi Gras is, much like the Kentucky Derby, decadent and depraved.

Except for the king cake. That stuff’s good as long as you don’t choke on the baby.