riding in a Mardi Gras parade
TL;DR Riding in a parade is pretty cool. I don’t know whether I recommend it but it’s pretty cool.
I am a member of the Krewe of Muses which is a Mardi Gras krewe in New Orleans. We are an all female krewe and a non-profit, supporting several charitable endeavors. Our "signature throws" are hand decorated shoes. These are not shoes for wearing and are given out from the floats singularly. If you are at all interested I recommend you google Muses shoes. The parade started in 2000 and the shoes tradition started a few years after that. Early shoes were sometimes not so attractive but a lot of the shoes given out along the route now are serious masterpieces.
For those of you who have never ridden in a Mardi Gras parade, this is how my day goes. My float group has a luncheon before the preparty. We arrive at around 12:30, generally already dressed in our tunics, wigs, and headdresses, anticipating the ride, worrying about the weather, helping each other with last minute costume adjustments. We have a light lunch and maybe a drink or 2 (I don’t.) Then we go to the preparty. This year they didn’t open the doors for the preparty when they were supposed to so there were droves of Muses hanging outside in the heat and semi damp. We also were having visions of 2020 (2020 visions?) when we were told during the preparty that our ride would be postponed due to weather. (Bad weather was forecast for this ride as well.)
We finally got in and now we spend an hour and a half in a room full of Muses. I love seeing all the different headdresses during this event. Each float krewe provides their own headdresses and wigs. We have float lieutenants who do a LOT of work for no pay: organizing the choosing and sometimes creation of the headdresses (we have been farming ours out to a local artist lately), choosing and ordering the wigs, figuring out where everyone will be on the float (a monumental task), making sure everyone’s throw orders get to the proper places, and the list goes on. There is a headdress contest at the preparty and the winners of first and second places get to ride on the first two floats next year. We have never had this honor but got honorable mention this year due to the fact that we were Irma Thomas’ favorite. (I call that a win.) Anyway, next time you watch the Muses parade try to take a moment to appreciate the headdresses on each float. A lot of thought (and work) goes into those. During the preparty I am moving about, taking pictures of my favorites (and pausing so people can take pictures of mine.)
There’s an open bar and a relatively simple buffet with mostly sandwiches and finger foods. Lots of us fill a few containers to eat on the ride. It’s loud and crowded and there are only a few places to sit down. The captains do their usual spiel telling us we have to wear our harnesses and our masks, to play nice, etc. We sing a spectacularly stupid song, headdress winners are announced, and well before it is over we are all quite anxious to just get on the floats. And finally we do.
Actually this year we had to get on a bunch of buses that took us to our floats. I prefer when we get on the floats and just ride them to line up because you can start to settle in. But the buses were air conditioned and had bathrooms which was nice, especially since we ended up sitting in them for what felt like quite a while.
Now many of us are getting a little cranky because we just want to get this party started. They finally let us out and we trudge straight up on our floats, dutifully tie ourselves in, and set to work trying to organize our throws. As we do this, people pass by asking for shoes. There are people who actually set up chairs and even ladders for kids at the line up. We are not supposed to throw until our float crosses a specific spot, which is the start of the parade. You can tell where the parade starts because that’s where it is crowded. One year I actually said to someone, who was begging for a shoe, “Do you see what a great spot you got? With no one in front of or beside you? That’s because this is not the parade.” Generally I either ignore them or say “We aren’t supposed to throw yet.” Unfortunately, the upper deck is a lawless bunch. (I say this with a certain amount of affection. I have friends up there.) Often, just as I say “We aren’t supposed to throw yet,” some trinket will come flying from the top and I’ll sigh and say “We aren’t supposed to throw yet.”
One of the things I (and many others) do while we are sitting there is make bags with a shoe and a few cool things to give to friends along the route. This feels very simple and efficient while we are sitting still. Once we start to roll, everything starts to change very quickly. First of all, we now have to have our masks on. We can get fined if we are spotted on the float (after it has started rolling) with our masks off. Those are the rules. I am now scanning the crowd for people I know while trying not to be an asshole to the other parade goers. No one (or almost no one) wants anything but shoes. I am only allowed 30 shoes, some of which are set aside for friends and family (but I do toss the majority of them.) This year I opted to buy only “remusable” throws and one bag of cool trinkets like yo yos and those poppy beads. This meant I had less to throw but hopefully more things people wanted. This wasn’t the case but I’ll write about that another time.
I try to have one of the special bags in front of me at all times but there isn’t much room there. So I set a bag in front of me and then start giving out items to the masses and the bag gets somewhat buried. And then someone I know comes up, yelling my name, and I panic as I scramble about for that bag. I often only have a few seconds to locate the bag and get it to the person as others frenziedly beg for one too. I try to get a brief hand touch and an air kiss and we’re off and I grab another bag for the next person. Luckily, most of the people I know are viewing in the first third (or maybe first quarter) of the route so at a certain point I can relax and just deal with the crowd.
I love giving stuffed animals to kids. I hate giving shoes to people only to see them dash off to add it to their stash. I really love to give shoes to people and see them squeal excitedly and show their friends. That makes it all seriously worthwhile. These are mini works of art. Some people are better artists than others but we all do our best and then mostly just hand them out to strangers. When you get a shoe, that person spent hours and a not inconsequential amount of money making that. If you got multiple shoes in one evening, and they weren’t from people you know, I don’t want to hear about it. You’re greedy. And don’t you dare sell them on ebay. If you don’t want it, give it away. I didn’t make that shoe for you to profit from it.
Anyway, we are riding along and people are begging for shoes and putting their shoes in my face. (Seriously. Put your shoe back on. I know what you want. You don’t need to pantomime.) They’re offering me fancily decorated bottles of wine, mini bottles of champagne, and lots of other types of alcohol including jello shots (seriously? I am not taking jello shots from some rando on the route) all in exchange for shoes. I generally pass. And actually, if you managed to trade something for a shoe, I’m willing to say you purchased that shoe and you can sell it. That’s the one exception.
Eventually, I run out of shoes and, before the end of the route, I run out of everything and I sit down. We get to the end and wearily get off the float, carrying what few things we have left, and trudge into the after party, the AMUSEment. It’s loud and crowded. We peel off our masks and headdresses and wigs, grab some food and a drink. The bar is open and the food is provided by Jacques Imo’s and is pretty good. A friend this year commented that the afterparty is really for non-riding Muses and guests and she is kind of correct. Of course, it’s only free for riding members. We search for, and eventually find, a place to sit down and eat. We chat a bit, mostly about weird interactions we had along the route, but it is loud and we are tired. Eventually we start looking askance at each other. “Is she ready to go? I’m ready to go.”
And then we leave. I always drive since my friend who I ride with (and who got me into this mess) lives just a few houses off the route and it’s just easier for me to pick her up than vice versa. It is not a chore to be designated driver. Neither of us are drunk at this point. Neither of us get particularly drunk the entire day. I don’t see the attraction of getting drunk while riding in a parade. You’re riding on this huge contraption which can start and stop at any moment And you’re tied to it with a sometimes too long rope And people are screaming at you out of the darkness. And you’re having to scrabble about to find things to give them. And you definitely want to give out everything because otherwise you will feel obliged to carry it back off the float. Being drunk would be a bridge too far. (Also you want to minimize your use of the port a let on the float, which is nasty and hard to reach.)
But it’s quite a rush. Each year I have moments of “Why am I doing this?” and “THAT'S why I’m doing this.” It’s kind of magical to see a person’s eyes light up when you hand them a shoe. And there’s a camaraderie with my float mates, even if I only see them when we ride. It’s pretty cool. I don’t know whether I recommend it but it’s pretty cool.
I am a member of the Krewe of Muses which is a Mardi Gras krewe in New Orleans. We are an all female krewe and a non-profit, supporting several charitable endeavors. Our "signature throws" are hand decorated shoes. These are not shoes for wearing and are given out from the floats singularly. If you are at all interested I recommend you google Muses shoes. The parade started in 2000 and the shoes tradition started a few years after that. Early shoes were sometimes not so attractive but a lot of the shoes given out along the route now are serious masterpieces.
For those of you who have never ridden in a Mardi Gras parade, this is how my day goes. My float group has a luncheon before the preparty. We arrive at around 12:30, generally already dressed in our tunics, wigs, and headdresses, anticipating the ride, worrying about the weather, helping each other with last minute costume adjustments. We have a light lunch and maybe a drink or 2 (I don’t.) Then we go to the preparty. This year they didn’t open the doors for the preparty when they were supposed to so there were droves of Muses hanging outside in the heat and semi damp. We also were having visions of 2020 (2020 visions?) when we were told during the preparty that our ride would be postponed due to weather. (Bad weather was forecast for this ride as well.)
We finally got in and now we spend an hour and a half in a room full of Muses. I love seeing all the different headdresses during this event. Each float krewe provides their own headdresses and wigs. We have float lieutenants who do a LOT of work for no pay: organizing the choosing and sometimes creation of the headdresses (we have been farming ours out to a local artist lately), choosing and ordering the wigs, figuring out where everyone will be on the float (a monumental task), making sure everyone’s throw orders get to the proper places, and the list goes on. There is a headdress contest at the preparty and the winners of first and second places get to ride on the first two floats next year. We have never had this honor but got honorable mention this year due to the fact that we were Irma Thomas’ favorite. (I call that a win.) Anyway, next time you watch the Muses parade try to take a moment to appreciate the headdresses on each float. A lot of thought (and work) goes into those. During the preparty I am moving about, taking pictures of my favorites (and pausing so people can take pictures of mine.)
There’s an open bar and a relatively simple buffet with mostly sandwiches and finger foods. Lots of us fill a few containers to eat on the ride. It’s loud and crowded and there are only a few places to sit down. The captains do their usual spiel telling us we have to wear our harnesses and our masks, to play nice, etc. We sing a spectacularly stupid song, headdress winners are announced, and well before it is over we are all quite anxious to just get on the floats. And finally we do.
Actually this year we had to get on a bunch of buses that took us to our floats. I prefer when we get on the floats and just ride them to line up because you can start to settle in. But the buses were air conditioned and had bathrooms which was nice, especially since we ended up sitting in them for what felt like quite a while.
Now many of us are getting a little cranky because we just want to get this party started. They finally let us out and we trudge straight up on our floats, dutifully tie ourselves in, and set to work trying to organize our throws. As we do this, people pass by asking for shoes. There are people who actually set up chairs and even ladders for kids at the line up. We are not supposed to throw until our float crosses a specific spot, which is the start of the parade. You can tell where the parade starts because that’s where it is crowded. One year I actually said to someone, who was begging for a shoe, “Do you see what a great spot you got? With no one in front of or beside you? That’s because this is not the parade.” Generally I either ignore them or say “We aren’t supposed to throw yet.” Unfortunately, the upper deck is a lawless bunch. (I say this with a certain amount of affection. I have friends up there.) Often, just as I say “We aren’t supposed to throw yet,” some trinket will come flying from the top and I’ll sigh and say “We aren’t supposed to throw yet.”
One of the things I (and many others) do while we are sitting there is make bags with a shoe and a few cool things to give to friends along the route. This feels very simple and efficient while we are sitting still. Once we start to roll, everything starts to change very quickly. First of all, we now have to have our masks on. We can get fined if we are spotted on the float (after it has started rolling) with our masks off. Those are the rules. I am now scanning the crowd for people I know while trying not to be an asshole to the other parade goers. No one (or almost no one) wants anything but shoes. I am only allowed 30 shoes, some of which are set aside for friends and family (but I do toss the majority of them.) This year I opted to buy only “remusable” throws and one bag of cool trinkets like yo yos and those poppy beads. This meant I had less to throw but hopefully more things people wanted. This wasn’t the case but I’ll write about that another time.
I try to have one of the special bags in front of me at all times but there isn’t much room there. So I set a bag in front of me and then start giving out items to the masses and the bag gets somewhat buried. And then someone I know comes up, yelling my name, and I panic as I scramble about for that bag. I often only have a few seconds to locate the bag and get it to the person as others frenziedly beg for one too. I try to get a brief hand touch and an air kiss and we’re off and I grab another bag for the next person. Luckily, most of the people I know are viewing in the first third (or maybe first quarter) of the route so at a certain point I can relax and just deal with the crowd.
I love giving stuffed animals to kids. I hate giving shoes to people only to see them dash off to add it to their stash. I really love to give shoes to people and see them squeal excitedly and show their friends. That makes it all seriously worthwhile. These are mini works of art. Some people are better artists than others but we all do our best and then mostly just hand them out to strangers. When you get a shoe, that person spent hours and a not inconsequential amount of money making that. If you got multiple shoes in one evening, and they weren’t from people you know, I don’t want to hear about it. You’re greedy. And don’t you dare sell them on ebay. If you don’t want it, give it away. I didn’t make that shoe for you to profit from it.
Anyway, we are riding along and people are begging for shoes and putting their shoes in my face. (Seriously. Put your shoe back on. I know what you want. You don’t need to pantomime.) They’re offering me fancily decorated bottles of wine, mini bottles of champagne, and lots of other types of alcohol including jello shots (seriously? I am not taking jello shots from some rando on the route) all in exchange for shoes. I generally pass. And actually, if you managed to trade something for a shoe, I’m willing to say you purchased that shoe and you can sell it. That’s the one exception.
Eventually, I run out of shoes and, before the end of the route, I run out of everything and I sit down. We get to the end and wearily get off the float, carrying what few things we have left, and trudge into the after party, the AMUSEment. It’s loud and crowded. We peel off our masks and headdresses and wigs, grab some food and a drink. The bar is open and the food is provided by Jacques Imo’s and is pretty good. A friend this year commented that the afterparty is really for non-riding Muses and guests and she is kind of correct. Of course, it’s only free for riding members. We search for, and eventually find, a place to sit down and eat. We chat a bit, mostly about weird interactions we had along the route, but it is loud and we are tired. Eventually we start looking askance at each other. “Is she ready to go? I’m ready to go.”
And then we leave. I always drive since my friend who I ride with (and who got me into this mess) lives just a few houses off the route and it’s just easier for me to pick her up than vice versa. It is not a chore to be designated driver. Neither of us are drunk at this point. Neither of us get particularly drunk the entire day. I don’t see the attraction of getting drunk while riding in a parade. You’re riding on this huge contraption which can start and stop at any moment And you’re tied to it with a sometimes too long rope And people are screaming at you out of the darkness. And you’re having to scrabble about to find things to give them. And you definitely want to give out everything because otherwise you will feel obliged to carry it back off the float. Being drunk would be a bridge too far. (Also you want to minimize your use of the port a let on the float, which is nasty and hard to reach.)
But it’s quite a rush. Each year I have moments of “Why am I doing this?” and “THAT'S why I’m doing this.” It’s kind of magical to see a person’s eyes light up when you hand them a shoe. And there’s a camaraderie with my float mates, even if I only see them when we ride. It’s pretty cool. I don’t know whether I recommend it but it’s pretty cool.