By Rev. Tom White, March 8, 2019 — It was the final night of Mardi Gras. The final night! I was stationed in Fort Polk in the lower part of Louisiana, about 100 miles from New Orleans. Three of my army buddies all wanted to go to the Mardi Gras celebration, and I was requested to go as the designated driver! They knew that I didn’t drink, and they trusted that I would get them home safely.
It was a good two-hour drive to downtown New Orleans. We parked Kelley’s 10-year-old Oldsmobile about a half-block from a place called Kelley’s Bar (no relation, strictly a coincidence). The guys piled into the pub, and we had an understanding that we all would meet at the car at midnight. For myself, I went downtown to see the festivities.
Mardi Gras in the Big Easy is an experience like no other. The various floats, called krewes, were ornate and colorful. The marching bands gave the true meaning to the term Dixieland Jazz. Some of the floats carried colorfully dressed girls who threw strings of beads, fixed as necklaces. I managed to grab a couple. As I walked down the street, a woman from a low-hanging balcony asked me for one of my beads. Feeling a bit guilty about snaring more than one set of beads, I thought, “Why not,” and tossed up a ringlet of beads. She proceeded to then do something that I always thought that good girls don’t do in public. Well, like I said, it was Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and there is a first time for everything. I shoved the other beaded necklace in my pocket.
At midnight, every fire siren in New Orleans went off. The parade immediately stopped. Everyone started to leave. Mardi Gras was over! Lent had begun. I made my way to Kelley’s car, just a half-block from Kelley’s Bar. No one was there. I waited a few minutes, then, strictly on a hunch, I went into the bar.
There they were; so drunk that they were polluted. The sots had never left Kelley’s Bar. One-by-one, I got them out into the car. As I turned to get into the Olds, I spotted a reveler walking by. He was a penguin, flapping his flippers up and down in the parade. He still had his penguin suit on, but he carried his headdress under one arm. And there, he had a smudge on his forehead. It was only 12:30 AM, but he had already been to Mass and had his ashes impressed on his forehead.
The two-hour ride was mainly uneventful. There were a few early-on giggles and belching, but they soon fell asleep. When we got back to Fort Polk, I didn’t bother trying to awaken them. I figured that they could just as well sleep it off in the car. I went to bed.
I learned that, somehow, they all did get into their barracks and to bed. And they all thought that I didn’t. I remained mum. Why muddy up such a nice story by blabbing the truth?