Mellow Mardi Gras

With much of New Orleans still in ruins, some natives opted for a more subdued celebration

BY J. JIONI PALMER | STAFF CORRESPONDENT

February 28, 2006

NEW ORLEANS - There was never any doubt Jim Thompson would ride atop a Mardi Gras parade float this year as he has for more than a decade. Or that he and his family would partake in the pre-Lent festivities.

"People in New Orleans are ready to come out and party and have a good time. Mardi Gras is part of the fabric of the city," Thompson, 55, of Baton Rouge, said. "If you don't have Mardi Gras in New Orleans you might as well not have red beans and rice."

While that scrumptious Southern dish wasn't on the menu at the party where Thompson's family and their friends waited Sunday night for him and the rest of the Krewe of Bacchus to parade through the warehouse district, there was more than enough savory gumbo and not-too-spicy chili to satisfy the taste buds and tax the waistline.

But with much of New Orleans still in tatters and roughly half of the city's residents still displaced around the country, Thompson's wife, Jane, said it just didn't feel right to attend the krewe's annual Mardi Gras ball at the Convention Center as she normally would.

"To put on a ball gown, I thought was a little excessive," said Thompson, a third-grade teacher whose Baton Rouge school took in about 120 evacuated students. "I don't hold it against anyone who went, but for me it was a little excessive."

Instead, she opted to spend a somewhat subdued evening - by New Orleans standards - kicking back with friends and relatives at a house party a block off the parade route.

The sounds of a rock band playing at the Bacchus Bash, an all day street party, still reverberated throughout the neighborhood and people walked the streets with beers and hurricane drinks in hand as they had in years past, but the vibe just wasn't the same.

"I feel like a lot of culture left the city because the people are gone," Jack Thompson, Jim's son, said of the revelry. "You can tell they're mostly tourists."

Periodically, someone at the party received a phone call from a float rider with an update on the progress of the parade, which began at 5:15 p.m. but didn't roll by where they were located until almost 11.

"He [my husband] said the crowds are larger than they've ever been," Jane Thompson said, a throng attributed to the first time in memory of staging the two "super krewes" of Bacchus and Endymion on the same night.

That news and the realization that the floats were approaching ignited the energy level among the gathering of about 20 or so people, who quickly freshened their beverages and headed out the door.

As the sound of the marching bands boomed louder and the lights from the floats grew brighter, the people climbed their ladders and otherwise positioned themselves to catch as many "throws" - an assortment of beads, stuffed animals, cups, key chains and other knickknacks - as possible.

"Tonight they're good, tomorrow they're just plastic beads," Jane Thompson said. "What's scary is what the women do for these plastic beads."

In addition to paying - in the case of Bacchus, $750 - to be on a float, the riders can spend as much as $2,000 each on throws.

"It really gives you a feeling of power ... It is an unbelievable feeling," Jim Thompson said of participating in the parade.

In light of the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, Thompson said, riding this year took on special meaning.

"For everything that's happened I hope we never have a Mardi Gras like this," he said. "You know people were out there who lost everything but they are out there because it's Mardi Gras. Anyone who criticizes us for having Mardi Gras ain't from New Orleans."