Mardi Gras evening...February 5
And now it’s quiet, at least Uptown. I’m exhausted after going to 29 or so parades in a week and a half and have decided to forego the madness of the Quarter. I’ve done my celebrating. My tally of injuries: one set of beads between the eyes during Krewe du Vieux; one dozen to the face during Morpheus; one bag of a dozen large white beads to the face during Endymion; and one large set to the face today, leaving me slightly swollen and exacerbating the sinus infection I’m currently suffering.
And every one was worth it.
Now NOLA and I can hunker down and snuggle together in our own post-Mardi Gras bliss, exhausted, bruised, but completely satisfied.
She is not without her scars, though. While my own Mardi Gras season was a study in perfection, the same wasn’t so true for others. Several parades were marred by violence, shootings, and death, accidental and otherwise. New Orleans has once again taken a beating, but in the end she’s still standing, and I think she always will because she has people, like me, who love her dearly.
Tomorrow she make look a little different, a little dirtier around the edges, a little run down, a little tired, but in the end just as beautiful.