Polly Watts grew up celebrating Mardi Gras on the corner of St.
And by conjuring those memories, the spirit - if not the profits - of Carnival lives on. But instead of focusing on city regulations that shut them down this Mardi Gras, these bar owners prefer to remember the ghosts of Mardi Gras past, the almost-unforeseeable mishaps that made them memorable, and the joyous celebrations fueling their hope that they’ll be able to join in the city’s standard festivities again one day.
Yes, this year is different it has to be. The cacophony of happy stumblers, wandering the city in a dopamine-and-other-things-induced bubble of bliss.īest of all, there’s the din of bars, the collective keening joy of thousands of costumed merrymakers, the hue and cry of Carnival, an epic soundtrack of creatives celebrating the season that culminates on Mardi Gras day. Kids squealing on painted step ladders, arms outstretched to catch shiny beads. Cries of “throw me somethin’, mister!” as massive floats roll by. The chatter of clusters of friends and family together at parade parties. Listen carefully and the echoes of Mardi Gras reverberate.
