Mardi Gras Memories

Happy Mardi Gras! I had the good fortune to be able to attend the festivities back in 1989, but getting there wasn't so easy, so I thought it might make a good story for today...

A friend had been to New Orleans during the summer of 1988, and made some acquaintances who invited her to return for Mardi Gras. I got invited to go along, but because of my work schedule I could not travel with the others who were going, so I made arrangements to arrive a day or two later. It was suggested that I bring a sleeping bag, as the accommodations would be somewhat spartan.

My flight from Boston to New Orleans was on the Saturday before Mardi Gras, leaving around 6 PM and connecting through Dallas. For once, the weather here was not an issue; I went from work directly to the airport and got on my way easily. But just before I left, the southern part of the country was gripped by unseasonably cold temperatures. I had assumed it would be warm in New Orleans (compared to the weather at home), so I didn't really pack appropriate clothing.

When my flight landed in Dallas later that night, the temperature was 17 degrees. The one other time I'd passed through the DFW airport, during the previous summer on the way to attend a friend's wedding in Los Angeles, it was 107 degrees. Fortunately, I didn't have to venture outside either time, since I was changing planes within the same terminal. I passed by one of the doors leading outside and got a blast of the cold air, and that was more than enough.

The flight from Dallas to New Orleans left around 11 PM, and it was less than half full. (This was the time I was able to lie on my side across the three seats in the aisle and sleep, which I referenced in one of my recent posts). No one was able to pick me up at the airport, but I had been instructed to catch a shuttle van that ran to some of the downtown hotels (about a 30-minute ride, and the least expensive option) and catch a cab from a hotel to the house where we were staying. This was a good idea in theory, but getting dropped off alone, with heavy luggage (no wheels back then) and my silly sleeping bag, in the middle of the French Quarter, in the midst of teeming throngs of Mardi Gras celebrants, in the prime drunkness hours after midnight, was disorienting and a little unnerving.

These days it's highly unlikely I would find myself in a completely unfamiliar place without any resources, but I wasn't yet a seasoned traveler. I didn't have any maps, I didn't have any sort of guidebooks, and I didn't have any sense of which direction I needed to be going. The few taxis that I saw already had passengers in them. I didn't panic, but I was at a bit of a loss. But I did have enough sense to figure out that I would be better off getting away from the crowds.

After going a couple of blocks away from the center of the revelry, I was finally able to wave down a taxi. I gave him the address, and before long I was being dropped off. The other part of the instructions from my friends was that when I arrived, they would most likely be out at one of the big balls given by the krewes (the social organizations that sponsor and organize the Mardi Gras parades), but that someone would be at home to let me in. So I'm sure it's no surprise to you that no one was home.

So, just to recap, it's now around 2 AM, I'm standing on the porch of this empty house (which, while locked, has lights on in every room that I can see), I have no idea what sort of neighborhood I'm in, I'm tired, it's cold (not as cold as in Dallas, but maybe 35 degrees), and I don't have a winter coat. Now I admit, that part was really stupid. For whatever reason, I'd decided to travel wearing a shirt, sweater, and denim jacket. It's a long time ago, so I don't remember all the details, but it's possible we'd caught a slightly warmer spell at home, or I just didn't want to be burdened with a heavy outer coat.

But I did have my stupid sleeping bag. I'd brought another light coat with me, so I put that on on top of my other layers, got inside the sleeping bag, assumed a sitting position on the porch with my back against the house, and eventually fell asleep. My friends and the people who lived in the house rolled in around 5 AM. They assured me that when they had left, there were other people still at the house so they thought I'd be able to get in.

The rest of the trip was great; by that evening I'd forgotten all about my unexpected, improvised camp-out.