Well... I survived.
I don't really know how to go about describing Mardi Gras, chaos doesn't seem to cover it! I went in not really knowing what to expect and came out battered and bruised and feeling like I could sleep for a week.
The hostel we stayed in left little to be desired. A precariously balanced top bunk proved a little difficult for the drunken mind to cope with and nearly ended in tears a couple of times as the whole bed nearly collapsed. Being in the position where I knew I had to be quiet because of sleeping stranger below me, made sure that I found myself many a night drunkenly perched on the top of a ladder not knowing whether to go forward or back as the whole bed wobbled more and more and got louder and louder. Safe to say I was not popular.
The girl in the bunk next to me however had it down to a tee. I was woken up one night by her flinging the door open after spending a good ten minutes trying to get her key in the lock.. she bounded towards her bed, swung off it, flung herself face first onto the bed and just lay there. No attempt to use the ladder or to get changed. Absolutely Brilliant.
Our time in New Orleans was mainly spent being swept up in the Mardi Gras chaos.. We did however find time to spend a lazy afternoon on a steam-powered paddle boat on the Mississippi, obviously with Bloody Mary in hand!
A walk down Bourbon Street proved a bit of an eye-opener. It appeared to be some sort of Gentlemans club, a lot of seedy men in suits and the women were dressed up to the nines, if dressed. People filled the balconys above throwing beads down to the drunken plebs below. It was a bit unsettling to see how willing a lot of girls were to flash in order to get beads or alcohol, especially as the majority of ladies doing it were at a 'later stage' in their life.
I have never seen anything like it.. Ladies in their late 60's (who looked like they worked in the local library) in short skirts, a drink in each hand staggering along the street and a lot of beads round their necks. One of these 'older' ladies grabbed my arm during a parade and loudly appologised for being so drunk and that it was due to the fact she was on her second hurricane.. her poor husband could only shrug.
The parades were also not what I expected, everyone crammed towards the barriers waving at masked strangers on floats in hope that they would throw them some tatt that they had, aside from normal beads, it ranged from giant teddybears, frisbees, flashing beads, cups and Footballs. It became a competition to see who could get all the 'good' stuff.. You had to keep your eyes on the floats at all times we quickly found out as I got hit in the face a couple of times by beads that had been lobbed full force from a float by some sweaty, drunk man in a mask.
After spending 6 days of this, with the added pressure of having to look over your shoulder the whole time as every person we met put great emphasis on how unsafe the city is, the prospect of a comfy bed and good night sleep is on the horizon.
All that stands between us now is a dirty hangover combined with 7 hours on a Greyhound..
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