I’ve been promising this story for two weeks now. I figure that I should write it now before various people become so upset at my lack of writing it that they begin to remove some of the less vital organs from my body.
As I mentioned before I spent Valentine’s Day in New Orleans this year with an amazing woman by my side. What was interesting was that leading up to the trip neither of us would admit that we were going to be there on Valentine’s Day. We continually referenced the fact that this was a President’s Day weekend trip. It was easier to justify that we were there to celebrate the man, the myth, the legend that is Millard Fillmore than just saying, “Wouldn’t it be incredible if we ended Valentine’s Day by sitting across from each other at Café du Monde eating beignets and drinking really good coffee?” It’s amazing the way we need to craft every moment of our lives.
But it was Valentine’s Day as well as the start of the major Mardi Gras parades. So on Valentine’s Day we decided to catch one of the ones that runs through the Quarter (Krewe Shangri-La for those who are interested in those sorts of things. It wasn’t exactly one of those things we planned on seeing. More like we knew it was going to happen and while wandering the Quarter we ran into the parade route. So as you always do in New Orleans, when you see a lot of people waiting for something to happen you join in with them.
It wasn’t long before we noticed that we were joined by a small, unleashed dog and his rather interesting owner. Interesting in the ways that only people in Nola can be. She would make her way through the crowd, start conversations with anyone, go up to people in the parade and ask why things weren’t moving and be oblivious to the fact that her dog is just wandering amidst the crowd. She was just one of those women who you know is simply referred to as a character.
My traveling companion views dogs as superior to humans in most aspects so she just immediately took a liking to the little guy and tried to make sure that he was ok. From that we learned his story. The dog’s name was Valentine and he was one of the many pets that survived Katrina. Even she wasn’t sure exactly what he survived on or what he went through but he made it through that mess. She didn’t intend to take him to the parade that day but when she left the house he jumped the fence and followed her. I mean, you couldn’t blame him. It was his day and who wants to miss out on a parade?
The parade itself wasn’t one of those massive ones that go down Canal Street with the huge floats. This was more of a neighborhood feel to it even if it was in the Quarter. You had high school marching bands and dance squads and various people being pulled on horse drawn carriages throwing beads to the crowd. Best was the motorcycle rider in drag who was dressed as “Mary Tyler Ramone.” With all the noise and the crowd though you could see that Valentine was getting a little frightened and without a leash we weren’t sure where he was going to go. So, my traveling companion reached into her bag, undid one of her camera straps, and improvised a leash for the little guy. Like I said, she is a rather amazing woman.
The reason our friend was at the parade was that the king of the parade was a friend of her from work at the fairgrounds. When he came by in his carriage she went up to him to say hi and get a hug. In the Mardi Gras tradition he gave her something special, which was his arm garter that read “Krewe of Shangri-La”. When she came back to the sidewalk she immediately handed it to us as a gift. I was happy to get beads and whatever other trinkets were tossed our way. To get something from the king of a Mardi Gras parade? That is pretty special.
When the parade ended we all went our separate ways. Valentine was released from the Canon leash and he went off with his owner, jauntily walking through the Quarter like he owned the place. Which in a way, he did.
Later that night while walking through another part of the city we came across a guy holding a little puppy. When we asked him his story he explained that he had just picked up this dog from a litter of pups that had been born that morning. The dog’s name? Valentine, of course.
People still wonder what I love about New Orleans. It’s a dirty, smelly, crime ridden city with the ever possible threat that the levees may fail again. But that is what I love about the place. Because the people who live there are there because the city speaks to them. This is their home and they could be whoever they want to be. And all you have to do to experience it is go there and open yourself to the moment.
Best of 120 Minutes: Let’s rock out to some Morphine tonight, shall we?
The five random CDs of the week:
1) The Postal Service “Give Up”
2) Continental Drifters “Better Day”
3) Nora O’Connor “Til the Dawn”
4) Beth Orton “Pass In Time”
5) The V-Roys “All About Town”
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