There is a distinct nostalgia among those who spend any significant period of time in New Orleans. And though for some of us, those years were college years and therefore imbued with all the nostalgia of any college experience, we know that it is a very special place. And now, living in buttoned-up Washington, we find ourselves frequently wishing for those carefree years of public binge drinking, potholes the size of refrigerators, astoundingly ineffective local government and the ever-looming threat of “the big one.” I jest! New Orleans will always be, in some strange way, home. Thus, my friends and I found ourselves trying to bring the “real” Mardi Gras spirit to Clarendon’s family-friendly “parade” last month.
Here’s the other thing: we’re all grown-up now, with jobs and responsibilities and dogs. And it just doesn’t seem right to put pictures of my friends pounding beers on the internet. Soooo I’m not going to. Suffice to say that we tried to bring back the NOLA spirit that night, Ash Wednesday was a really miserable day, and we even managed to get home before 2 a.m.