Experiencing the OTHER New Orleans

 I don't know if I can properly describe exactly what we experienced in participating in today's Second Line Parade. Let me set the scene: In New Orleans, anyone can hold a parade. In fact there are over 130 held every calendar year, and for a whole list of reasons - celebrations, marriages, funerals, Mardi Gras, etc. All you need is a permit from the city of new Orleans, which is free, and a brass marching band, and there you have it. You don't need people, as you'll collected those along the way, guaranteed. More official organizations will obviously have a little more, such as parade route organizers, costumed dancers, support vehicles and floats, and likely a police escort, both for their safety and for ensuring the least amount of disturbance to the neighbourhoods being paraded through. So if you calculate that a year has 52 weeks, and there are 130 parades per year, that means almost 3 per week, so of course the first thing I searched for was if any would be held during the days we were staying in New Orleans. Lo and behold, this Sunday, the Undefeated Divas, Gents and Kids Social and Pleasure Club were holding a Second Line Parade, where all of the community is invited to join in the fun by walking in the second line, the section behind the head float, dancers and brass band. That's the second line. Always wanting to join in on the less touristy activities, this morning we hunt down the start of the parade to join in the fun.

At a small neighbourhood bar/hangout, a small group of locals are gathering. Others mill around on the roadside, towing behind them cooler-wagons filled with all sorts of drinks, alcoholic and not, and overflowing with ice. Mixed drinks make a great breakfast, you know. We notice a few people, who look to be tourists, keeping their distance by observing from the opposite side of the street. Mario walks into the crowd and returns with a drink in hand. When in New Orleans, right? I notice a large number of the people wearing red clothing, and assume, correctly, that they are part of the club holding the parade. At noon, some men line up next to the door of the bar, hold 2 large ropes taught, like a velvet cordon allowing the dancers and parade participants to exit unimpeded through the crowd. First, the King and Queen of the parade, and the court of what I will call "The Single Ladies", because they make me think of the music video, dance their way out of the Vieux Carre bar and on to the boxy, plywood and white paint float. Joining them is a DJ blaring all sorts of loud music that should be more bleeps than lyrics, and a cooler full of their own selection of liquors, so you KNOW that float is going to be a party REAL soon. After the court come the dancers, the people who are going to be walking, jumping, stomping and dancing for the entirety of the parade route. They are played out by the super-energetic brass marching band, a mixture of trumpets, saxophones, Sousaphones, a couple of drums, and a guy with a bottle. During the parade, other random musicians will join in and depart, and sometimes play in tune with the main group. The dancers range in age from maybe 2 years old, all the way up to a spry woman likely in her mid-seventies, but she outwalks and outdances everyone. It feels like a family party, watching them all interacts, having their own little dance battles with each other, taking on people in the crowds on the side of the street. 

We all march to the beat of the jazzy tunes being blared by the brass band - I don't how they manage with this humid, 24 degree sunny day, they never stop playing and we march on for over 4 hours! Granted, there are pit stops along the way for drinks and food. There are some very enterprising people who follow the parade route, setting up in the backs of pick-up trucks, with more strong libations, or turkey necks and pigs feet, smoked sausages, oysters, crawfish and shrimp nachos - I mean, you name it, it probably wasn't there, but the assortment of food available was impressive and curious all at once! At the longest of the rest stops during the 4-mile parade, I watched as people clamoured to get at the back of a large food truck labeled "Mrs.Ackie's", and as the trays of crispy nachos piled high with seafood began coming out, I gave in and ordered one, too. Paired with the spicy nachos cheese sauce, it was just the fuel Mario and I needed to continue on the route with the rest of the revelers.

After lunch, the dancers showed up in a costume change, the women in beautiful white satin pants suits with sparkling panama hats, the men in coral-coloured 3-piece suits, everyone holding glittering letter Ds for "Divas", adorned with large coral plumes. As they marched along North Broad street, sunlight at their backs, they positively glowed.

By this time, the crowd was getting quite large - people were parked in the boulevard's median to watch, people were lining the side of the road, and it was getting more challenging to keep and and stay towards the front to see the action. We walked the whole route, finishing in a large empty lot under the I-10 where I am assuming the party is still going, but as the musicians were playing their last notes, Mario and I made a dash for the "exit", walking back towards the French Quarter before we got engulfed by the rest of the crowd. Looking back, we both agree that it might have been just as fun, and less tiring, if we had jumped ship around hour three - the last bit of walking was not so fun anymore, more trying because of the added crowds, and noisier as the soundsystem-blaring cars and motorcycles and bikes joined the party, blasting their music much louder than the actual bands. I don't quite know what they were trying to accomplish, but I personally found it incredibly rude, and even a bit insulting to the parade's organizers.

With tired feet, sore legs and throbbing ears, we found ourselves on Decatur street for and early diner. We slumped down at the bar of a place called Evangeline's for a simple, yet comforting dinner to boost our spirits. Mario tried a Sazerac cocktail, and suggested a Hurricane for me, a mix of rums and fruit juice, which was the perfect drink for me. He then ordered a bowl of Gumbo which I tried the Louisiana sausage sampler, which was good, as I got to taste what the Louisiana Boudin is like. It's nothing like Quebecois Boudin - it a mix of pork and beef with rice and spiced, stuffed into the casing - it's crumbling yet delicious. And of course, you know we had to finish off the evening with another round of coffee and beignets at Café du Monde - I mean, it was just down the road a block, and there were tables free! How could we not go?!

We did attempt to find a club on Bourbon street with some live jazz playing, but it being Sunday, the choice were few, and by the time we  were searching, most of the bands were between sets. I think tiredness won out, and we decided to instead head towards the street cars and back to the campground.