The day after Mardi Gras, 1997

The closest I ever came to celebrating Mardi Gras in New Orleans was in 1997. Ash Wednesday, 1997 to be exact. My wife and I flew into NO after dark and caught a cab to the Royal Sonesta Hotel. The cabdriver knew the back routes and took us to the garage entrance to the hotel where we were met by several bellmen who unloaded our bags and hustled us into the crowded lobby.

Having never been to New Orleans before I couldn't wait to experience it. I wandered out of the hotel's front door right onto Bourbon Street. It was like stepping in a maelstrom. The remnants of Mardi Gras were everywhere including many intoxicated people who may not have known that it was already the next day, or week, or whenever they started their party. Beads hung from street signs and little mountains of beer cans appeared here and there. I have a vague memory of my wife pulling me back into the hotel while strange hands grabbed at me struggling to to pull me back into the Hell of Bourbon Street. It was pretty exciting. Once the front door of the Sonesta shut tight, the din of Bourbon Street became a distant muffled roar and I regained a shred of sanity. However, there was no convincing my spouse that we should give Bourbon Street another try that night.

Luckily, the room they put us in was on the hotel's top floor on the Bienville Street side. People I talked to with rooms facing Bourbon didn't get to sleep much that night--or any other night.

We spent time strolling Bourbon Street taking in its exotic and unusual sights and sounds for the next couple of days until around dark when the atmosphere and clientele of Bourbon Street changed visibly and palpably. It became a sinister place after dark--which I presume is most of its appeal but it surely didn't appeal to the wife even one little bit.

She and I have been back to New Orleans on several occasions, the last time was the year after Katrina. We took the Gray Line Katrina tour which was an eye-opening experience even if it did make us feel a little like ghouls. I remember the bus dutifully stopping at a lone traffic light somewhere in the lower 9th with nothing but destruction in every direction. Even Bourbon Street seemed more sedate back then.

My best regards go out to the people of NO who are hopefully enjoying a rousing Mardi Gras today. And if you're staying in the Royal Sonesta tonight, sweet dreams.