Carnival Diary, part 8

It's a topsy-turvy year here, to say the least, so it's surprising but not unexpected that the parade crowds uptown, where the families gather to watch the floats before the riders are totally wasted, seem to be substantially larger this year than the tourist crowds downtown and in the Quarter. Last night, we were Uptown to welcome friends back to town at a Carnival party--for my money, the best parties thrown on the planet--and then to watch Endymion, one of the "super-krewes", so called because they have helped pioneer the three-section floats. With Endymion, the nighttime parade vibe had clearly changed (it had probably changed with Bacchus which rolled immediately before, but that parade we missed): gone was the wicked satire. We were now deep in traditional Mardi Gras, the land of pure grand spectacle and mock monarchy. Endymion was indeed grand, lit up like Christmas, and seeing it close up (Uptown there are no barricades between the crowd and the parade), being able to thank the folks from the Max Band and from Slidell band for parading , was the treat you can never have downtown. And I realize what one of the messages of this season here is. The weird transaction involving the beads--so coveted one minute, worthless the next--is a ritualized parody of the commercial culture we live in every day, with objects of desire morphing to obsolete dust before our eyes. And the faux royalty, splendid and empty (the Mayor of New Orleans turns over his powers for one day to Rex, let's see if that makes a difference) reminds us of the empty splendor of even the most legitimately elected leaders. Topsy-turvy indeed.