Tulane University - Jambalaya Yearbook (New Orleans, LA)

Page 21 text:

All the while, Bourbon Street massages the rowdy with her massive ripoffe as barkers announce prices that have tripled since last Monday. Chris Owens is as over- worked as the N.O.P.D. and Papa Joe ' s has a block long line of revelers anticipating the purchase of another fifth. The Lucky Dog Man is doing a brisk business and decides that life without mustard would not be worth living. Pat O ' Brien ' s queue draws the attention of eight mounted policemen. An apartment house courtyard party further down the street rages until the ice runs out, and guests manage to drift off, in search of a daiquiri. There is laughter and astonishment with all fields of sensation. Strutting by one of the Quarter ' s back streets, a group spills its noise over from Bourbon. Throwing a defiant scream in the direction of an aged apartment that is mysteriously boarded up with shutters, the structure laughs back. A hardened city ' s mood has seen it all before and is somehow unimpressed. From Claiborne overpass, its roof dominates the city. Yet once inside the city, crossing Canal Street to locate the trolley, the Superdome glimpses at the crowds gath- 17

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Curving with the River, the better parades flow along St. Charles A venue, rolling to their downtown destination. As each float passes, new discoveries reward those who indulge in trinket activity. It is not enough to- observe; participation is the necessity. The crowds who line the street several rows deep gesture the parade onward, like so many jockeys whip- ping their thoroughbreds to the finish. The parade gathers intensity. Heightened senses and blurred vision ... a nauseated stomach and a mind that does not care . . . parched mouths and a half-full wineskin that leaks over the back ... a torn pants leg and bulging pockets of doubloons . . . smells of drunkeness and the relief of a urinal . . . perspiration infects the faces of nameless in- dividuals as the madness mounts. The convoy approach- es its mark and just past the twist of a street comer, Canal Street is sighted. Cheers rise as the rabble scram- ble to take their positions atop light posts, barricades, and boyfriends. The wealthy remove their gloves and dip over the balconies adorned with wreaths tinted purple and gold. They are excited as only curistocrats can be. 16

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