2009DCMardiGras

Washington Mardi Gras 2009
The Sundance of Louisiana Politics

So what is it, actually?

Each year, approximately 2000 Louisianians descend on the nation's capital to lobby their
Congressmen, visit with old
friends and network with the
next batch of 22-year-olds who
are really running the country.

It's put on by a profoundly disorganized group called the Mystick Krewe of Louisianians, Inc.--a group so challenged in the art of organizational behavior that I'm proud to be a member.

Actually, it's one of the few associations from Louisiana that I've been able to keep up over the years. For five days, we eat too much, drink way too much and meet far too many new people than we'll ever be able to remember.

It's awesome.

Being a member of the krewe is hard work. (OK, it's harder than sitting on your couch on Saturday night, but that's about it.) For one thing, members of the krewe have to sit on the floor of the Hilton Ballroom for about forty-five minutes, while the debutantes are presented. That really wears out a 55-year-old butt.

But there is a way to get out of it.

You can sign up to escort one of the queens or debutantes. (Escorting is probably overstating the case.
Essentially, you're holding up a sign with eheir names on it. )
The advantage is that you get to sit backstage (see photo), drink and talk to beautiful young ladies.

I particularly like to carry the signs for queens of Louisiana festivals. Last year, I carried the sign for the queen of the Orange Festival in Plaquemimes Parish, who was the daughter of my friend Jiff Hingle. I didn't know anyone this year, but because I LOVE the Christmas Festival in Natchitoches, I signed up the carry the sign for their queen. In honor of the Christmas Festival, I discarded the hat that went with my costume and wore a Santa hat instead. If I may say so myself, I was adorable.

I wish this picture of my queen and me was more in focus, but that's what happens when you let somebody else take the picture.

Sally and I have got to the point where we had to keep a schedule of ten-plus events events (costume fittings, receptions, dinners, lunches, meetings, balls, etc.) that we needed to attend each day. By Saturday, it was starting to wear me down. After some reflection, I decided that it's not possible that I'm getting older or that I'm drinking too much. It must be the altitude in Washington DC.

Some people say that DC is actually closer to sea level that Jackson or Baton Rouge, but I'm pretty sure that can't be true. It's the altitude.

I've been going to the Washington Mardi Gras for a few years now, but I haven't done much to record what happens there. This is a feeble attempt to try to provide a glimpse into what goes in to it.

Wednesday:

Five days of enforced merriment begins on Wednesday,with the "Oyster Party" thrown by the Louisiana Seafood Promotion Board . It's held at a Cajun restaurant on New York Avenue called Acadiana, and it's really the first opportunity to renew old acquaintances and lay plans for the days ahead.

Thursday:

Things start to lurch into a higher gear on Thursday. The Louisana flag is unfurled outside teh Washington Hilton (it was right outside our hotel window this year), and the bar in the lobby changes its name (for the next four days) to The 65th Parish.

Even though I'm the one in the krewe, Sally is usually much busier than I am during DC Mardi Gras. Thursday is generally the last day that we're able to get out of the hotel and see something of the city. This year, we spent Thursday afternoon over a leisurely lunch at Haley Barbour's restaurant and a three-and-a-half hour visit to the Newseum (right), the museum of the news media. If you're planning a visit to Washington and you haven't seen it, I recommend it to you without reservation. It has great exhibits featuring the Berlin Wall, 9/11, all of the Pulitzer Prize winning photographs--and a great view of the Capitol, right) We thought we'd spend about an hour there, but three-and-a-half hours went by in a flash, and could have stayed longer.

That night was the first "official" event--Louisiana Alive (right), a free party at the Hilton featuring Louisiana music, food and people.

Friday:

I'm sorry to say that I did not leave the hotel between Thursday night and Sunday afternoon. I'm not complaining, but that's how packed the schedule is.

The main event on Friday is the dinner dance where the Louisiana debutantes are presented to whatever component of Washington's polite society that has dared to show up.

Before and after the dinner, Congressmen and others host receptions in suites throughout the hotel. On the right is a photo from a suite hosted by new Congressman John Fleming from the district that includes Shreveport. As it happens, Dr. Fleming is a graduate of the University of Mississippi School of Medicine. Sally does fundraising work for him, and she and I had a chance to visit with them and their son, J.C. at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas earlier in January.

Sally

Saturday:

The main attraction. The traditional format of a Mardi Gras ball is the presentation of a theme. The theme of this ball was Sunshine on the Delta. I don't know why.

The king was an old friend, Roy O. Martin, Jr., of Alexandria. When Sally and I worked in the Governor's Office in the early 1980's, Roy was a student worker. He has since taken his revenge for whatever mistreatment he received by becoming incredibly courteous to others, handsome and wealthy. I'm pretty sure that neither Sally nor I had anything to do with it.

Roy is a member of the LSU Board of Supervisors, and he is apparently in good standing, because the big surprise of the night was that he paid for the LSU Golden Band from Tigerland to travel to Washington by bus and surprise the crowd. I was outside the room when they made their entrance (see insert left), but we heard the thundrous reception they received.

And while the king was away from the throne, they let almost anybody (right) sit on it.