I never have been a big fan of loud, drunken crowds. Even when I am feeling loud and drunk, being surrounded by potentially out-of-control people gives me the willies. And this is the time of year in New Orleans when loud and drunk go together like purple, green and gold. Those colors in combination generally make me feel queasy, but during Mardi Gras, they give me a headache.
When I first moved to New Orleans, Stardances was an active member in the Krewe of Dreux. For those who do not know, Dreux is an underground Krewe that operates out of Gentilly. They have their own soiree, parade and royalty election, just like your more “acceptable” krewes, but they are composed of mostly locals who are interested in having a good time, drinking and staying out of the general spotlight. Well, hanging out with Dreux to excess can be unhealthy — particularly if like me you are diagnosed with the potential for fatty liver. So largely thanks to me, our Krewe-hanging and general drunken mischief making has been curtailed.
Maybe I’m getting old. Or maybe I’m becoming more interested in getting that way. But today was Parade Day for Dreux, and we did not attend. It’s cold, and the bottom line is while there are a small number of people I miss and would be interested in talking to, for the most part, the element that goes to parades (of any kind) is only really tolerable when both you and they are getting, or already, drunk. And that seems to me to be a poor way to have to maintain a relationship. If the entire fabric of your social existence hinges upon being drunk, or being in an environment where you can get drunk (or high, or anything else, for that matter), it feels like there often is more lubricant than substance to the whole situation.
I’m sorry. My worldview has changed. I used to say, for example, that I didn’t want to play in a band with anyone I wouldn’t feel comfortable dropping acid with. That’s always seemed a pretty good watermark as far as I’m concerned. I don’t think I would abandon it all together. However, I might just as easily say the reverse — that I wouldn’t want to drop acid with anyone I didn’t feel I could play in a band with. Or something like that. What I’m driving at is this: if I don’t feel that you and I would get along when both of us are sober, if I don’t think that sober it would be possible for us to have either a good time, or an interesting conversation to say the least, why in the world would I be interested in “loosing up our mutual inhibitions” so that we could, in a haze of illusory bonding, pretend that we didn’t need alcohol to improve our relationship?
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe Mardi Gras is one time of year I really miss serious drinking. After all, it is a great excuse for doing that, and pretty much just that. I don’t need any more beads, and the thought of seeing another set of bare breasts (that don’t belong to my better half) is not that high up on my list of must-dos.
