Travels with Snowbirds 2015, Tuesday February 17, New Orleans LA

---

The one about the rest of Mardi Gras

But first, I few things I forgot to write about in earlier blogs.

I toured the Katrina exhibit at the State Museum, next to the cathedral on Jackson Square. I am sure I am not the only one who forgot that Hurricane Rita hit this same region a short time after Katrina causing equal damage to towns that had been spared by Katrina’s wrath. The pictures and videos they showed of both events were amazing and awful. I was humbled. It is tragic for me to see so much devastation still remains here.

Coffee and Beignets at Café Du Monde, yummy. The tour gave us a coupon for free servings of both, a nice treat.

Moving on, I woke up Sunday morning very tired. This parade watching is hard work! Despite the fact that I really haven’t had that much to drink, I have reached that wall that has my body telling me, “No More! Give Up.” So, I stayed in Moya on Sunday morning and did not go to the World War II museum. I have heard that this is a must see museum, I just didn’t have it in me. The weather was warm, so it was a nice day to just kick back and relax. Those that went said it was really good. Of course, I couldn’t miss the parade, and traveled with the group to Krewe of Bacchus, one of the biggies. So many large floats, so many beads thrown, so much trash on the streets. Absolutely insane. Hopefully I can get the videos I took embedded in my photo essay blog, but they are already on FaceBook.

Even though my seat was marginally closer to the front of the viewing stands, I opted not to try to get that many beads. I did not want to carry another heavy bag back to the bus and campground. I did put my hand up once or twice and scored a beautiful necklace with a large Fleur de Lis medallion hanging from the bottom, suitable for use on my Christmas tree. I did get my coins and plastic cup, and even a stuffed toy train, which Winston has already appropriated. We got home relatively early, Winston, as always, happy to see me.

Monday morning was a real treat. We went dumpster diving! Laugh - we were taken to the Krewe of Thoth’s Den, the warehouse they store their floats during the off season. Their parade was the night before, and afterwards they were put into their warehouse without getting cleaned out. What a treasure trove. We got to climb all over them and take whatever we wanted that wasn’t part of the float. It was difficult to get into these things, and impossible for me to get up to the second level, but with a little assistance from my fellow travelers, I made it. We all scored. The trinkets come packed in vinyl storage bags with zippers, and there were many empty ones all over the floats. Plastic bags stuffed with throwaways are stuffed into these tote bags. I found a few brightly colored empty bags and just started picking up items from the dirty disgusting floor. I wish we had been told to bring gloves!!! But, I took some of those empty bags and used them as mittens and dove in. I scored many unopened bags of beads, and lots of other trinkets, and a couple of really good bags suitable for beach shell collection. Denise I have one for you. The men filled their bags with beer, Miller light and Budweiser seemed to be the favorites. We were advised that behind one door on every float was a small stall where we would find an orange bucket. “Don’t take our touch the orange bucket.” I saw plenty on my scavenge, filled almost to the brim with yellow liquid. I did not touch. I never took a picture! Duh.

Our buses took us on to The New Orleans Cooking School, well, a conference room near their riverfront facility large enough to ‘teach’ a group as large as ours how to cook traditional Creole food. A locally well-known TV personality chef, Kevin something or other, led the group with his humorous stories and tips on getting the Creole seasoning just right. We were served the food he showed us how to make for lunch. All good, except the shrimp used in the Shrimp Creole was very salty - pre frozen for sure. But the fresh made pralines (say prawleens) were wonderful. I learned you can tell how long ago a praline was made by how granular the sugar has become. As pralines set up, they dry out and the sugar gets more granular. You always want to eat them while they are warm and creamy. I took a slow leisurely walk back to the meeting point while others stayed on the riverfront to watch the festivities going on there. I wanted to get some oysters, but when I arrived at my selected place, the line was excessively long to even consider waiting. (Speaking of lines, as I passed Café du Monde, their line looked like a queue at Disney World. I can’t imagine waiting that long!!) I bought another pin and earring set (lost my first pin L ) and looked at the mask vendors who had sprung up everywhere. Masks made of leather, metal, paper mache etc, were incredible. Some were very sinister looking, others looked like they were right out of a porn movie, and others were just plain fun.

It was good to get back to Moya and change out of my dumpster diving clothes. Time for a very brief nap. Something changed, Winston was a nervous mess and he woke me up. I figured I would take him out to walk just as the skies opened up and the wind blew off the lake like a howling banshee. Our dinner was waiting for us at the Arena, and we had to walk. Ugh. Just as I was getting ready to leave, one of the Fantasy Tour ambassadors knocked on my door and told me he had a ride for the 4 of us, and he would be back in a few minutes. Wow, how nice was that!!! They knew all who didn’t have a car and arranged with the other guests to pick them all up. Dinner was a very good buffet, salad, chicken with mushrooms and peppers, seafood etouffe with rice, corn maque choux (corn mixed with tomatoes and lightly seasoned and yummy), rolls, and strawberry shortcake, served with beer and wine. Cajun dance instructors got us all up and taught dance moves and line dances. I walked back to Moya before the party was over, in the pouring rain. I was anxious to get get back to Winston and get myself tucked in and ready for Tuesday’s 7:30 am call.

It poured all night long. The wind howled and rocked me. I like that feeling, it’s not often I get rocked to sleep. I can tell when it’s really cold, Winston snuggles right in and he sure did. I set the alarm for 6. Although the rain had stopped, my thermometer said 37 degrees and the wind was still howling (TV said 30 to 40 mph gusts.) Even though this is the day the whole trip wraps around, I decided to stay in my rig and watch the entire parades on NBC local TV rather than attend in person. There was no way I had enough clothes to keep me warm sitting on metal grandstands with the wind whipping down the St. Charles Avenue. The buses were leaving early to avoid the traffic, meaning we would be sitting at least an hour before the first parade came by and perhaps even longer. It was a painful decision for me to make, but knowing I could see it on TV……I think I made the correct decision for me. Painful, but correct. As I get older, more and more frequently I make decisions that don’t put me into dangerous situations. While this was not a particularly dangerous situation, the potential for getting sick as a result caused me to make the tough choice. As I write this at 8:00 am, the TV coverage has been excellent! The weather is scrolling across the bottom of the screen, 38 degrees by 10:00. Lots of interviews with people lining up to find their perfect spot, and I see that the NBC affiliate’s reviewing stands are located one block up-parade of our grandstand, and now I know why so many floats paused for a long time at that location – to get their 15 minutes of fame on TV.

Time for a few ‘interesting people’ stories.

My Wilmington friend, Barb lost her husband to cancer a few years ago, then she herself was diagnosed with breast cancer. She moved from NY State to be near her son in Wilmington, and I met her thru The Newcomers Club. She had a bilateral mastectomy and chemo and radiation. The radiation burned the skin on her chest causing it to shrink and adhere to ribs underneath. She searched for a resconstructive surgeon and found one at Duke in Durham. Over the course of several (I think 3, sorry if I get some of the details fuzzy, Barb) procedures, this genius relocated skin, fat tissue and muscle from her back to her chest, then introduced ‘inflaters’ under her skin to create pockets to receive implants. Her surgery is now complete and she has her girls back and is very happy. Barb’s NY friends gave her many hats to cover her head during that hairless period. When her hair grew back, she gave her hats to her new ILM friends. I chose a purple brimmed floppy cap with silver sequins. I have worn it to many of our Mardi Gras events because it is sparkly and festive. At an event, a fellow tour mate came up to me and told me what a great hat I had! He was older than me, imagine that, about 6’ 4”, bald, and very roly poly around the middle. I was thrilled, and told him a limited version of the above story. He asked me if I knew that he was a retired breast surgeon. Nope, sure didn’t. What are the chances he would compliment my hat, and I would tell this story to a perfect stranger, and he be a breast surgeon. He commends you, Barb, and is very happy you have a wonderful outcome. I gave him a big hug for you, and me, too.

I met Kathy and Rich, from NJ. What are the chances of me meeting a couple with the name Kathy and Rich (Kathleen Marie and Richard no middle name) from NJ. They got married in 1969 and have 3 kids spread all over the US.

Then there are the California krewe. I have listened to my daughter, Kristine, talk about the people she meets in UT from southern California, but never have had the experience of meeting or knowing any myself. Barbie and Kens. Tall and thin. Perfect hair all the time, both men and women. Expensive shoes, boots, clothes, handbags, jewelry. They arrived in three very large diesel pushers that blocked the sun from everything. I think there was an extra 2 women with them who stayed in a nearby hotel with their rental car. They stayed to themselves and did not interact much with the other campers. I am watching them all pull out this morning, obviously they did not go to the parade either. I do not know if they are traveling on or going home. None of them EVER tow cars. They call cabs or rent a car locally. One couple have a Golden Doodle puppy, Fonzie, who is just a big goofy dog with legs that he might grow into someday. For some reason he was scared of me, and wouldn’t come close. He liked Winston until he realized Winston did not like to play and roll on the ground. One of the California girls broke her leg. The first parade they attended, she and hubby sat right behind us. She was plastered. They were trying to leave and she got her leg caught underneath a bench and fell backwards – all right behind me, with me watching. Her leg did not follow along in a proper fashion during her fall. She hobbled around for 2 days before going to the emergency room where x-rays showed a break in the ankle joint requiring surgery. She opted to stay off it until she got home to CA and could have a doctor there put the required pins and screws in. I only saw her outside her palace RV once, perfect hair, makeup, LV bag at her side. I wonder if she is the reason they all left for home today.

That brings up the rest of the dogs. All campers have dogs, except for Joanne who has a cat. Sometimes multiple dogs. Slowly we all let our dogs off their leashes in the area between our rigs and the levee. There is a fence that runs all along the levee, keeping the dogs on this side; open space is behind our rigs, between us and the University arena. We all worked hard on herding them to this fenced area, and just letting them run. Winston did his usual loner thing and wandered off nose down, sometimes disappearing between the rigs, and never returning when I called. There are 3 golden retrievers, 2 corgis, 1 golden doodle, 2 very old yellow labs, 1 chocolate lab puppy, and many many many Chihuahuas and other boot kicker dogs. I do not understand why they are so popular with campers. Just so yappy.

Lynne and Steve. They are my age, second marriage for both. He was born in Forest Hills, NY, just like me, she is a midwesterer. She went to nursing school in the 60s and went on to get her degree and retired a few years ago as nurse manager for a very large senior residential community. Lynne fell into an open manhole at our first parade and was a good sport and hobbled along to the big events, but stayed home for most of the parades.

Harvey is from Sarasota, FL via NYC somewhere. He is built just like the breast surgeon, only taller. His winter jacket looks like a tent. His hat of choice looked like the Mardi Gras version of The Cat in the Hat’s, purple gold and green rather than red and white, and about 4 feet tall. He always seemed to sit right in front of Joanne at the parades, meaning she never had the opportunity to catch anything. He was a nasty sarcastic beast, not one of my favorite people at all.

Then there was the couple from Arizona. They have one of those irritating Chihuahuas, and he carried him to some parades and tours in a small doggie version of the Ergo Baby front-pack my daughter uses on her baby. Pretentious. They had beautiful outfits for the Bal Masque, hers was a modern version of a western high born society lady’s party dress, copper colored satin top and coordinating plaid bottom, complete with ruffles and bustle. The costumer in me knew she was missing her hat, gloves and purse. His was a coat and hat like Wyatt Earp. I didn’t hang around them too much, she always has done everything you talk about bigger, better, longer, and more often than any story anyone tells. She needs to learn listening skills.

Homer and Gayle, mid 80s have been together for 5 years, from Temecula, CA. Gayle had different hats and headpieces for every event. Her last one was a purple gold and green curly wig! She always wore flip flops.

While we were on the Natchez river boat, one of our tour mates, Cheryl, retired teacher from South Carolina, told us she met a single lady on the buffet food line. Cheryl told her about the single women with our tour, and pointed her out to me. I brought her over to our group. About 55, single, gay, new to RVing, nurse who took a year off to see some of the country and explore the traveling nurse lifestyle. A great lady, we told her all about Loners on Wheels. Sad for her, home base is Salt Lake City, and she has about had it with the intolerance she regularly meets. She thinks life on the road might be a better place for her. She is not on an organized tour, she just put Mardi Gras on her bucket list to accomplish on this sabbatical.

We were told often and frequently, “Don’t pick up things you find on the ground.” The rationale being, you never know what has been on the ground underneath the treasures you spy. I did not pick up anything from the ground, I heard that message loud and clear, but I did pick up things that bounced off our bodies and landed on the bleachers. But, many things flew right off the metal boards right onto the ground underneath. By the last parade I attended, the pile of debris underneath our seats was about 2 feet high. What a massive cleanup job will be required.

Time to go walk Winston again, temperature still at 37 degrees outside, up to 60 inside thanks to my electric space heater (not all that cold actually.) I want to watch the parades on TV. The Zulu krewe is handing out decorated coconuts. Huh?

I leave tomorrow and head southeast back to Orlando. 625 miles in 2 days. I will catch up with you in a few days.



Kat out

---