It gives me a peculiar sense of happiness knowing that New Orleans pulled off yet another Mardi Gras. To know that, if I left right now, when I arrived at the St. Charles Tavern for a beer at whatever ungodly hour of the morning it would be the beads would be hanging from the trees along the avenue as they have for unnumbered years past.
At the same time, there’s an unavoidable sense of melancholy sitting here writing at 8:30 on a Fasnacht Day evening knowing that for the first time in remembered history I haven’t had a doughnut all day. And more, that for the first time in recent memory I’m not gathered among friends, gnawing fasnachts and drinking beer to celebrate the beginning of the Lenten season.
But I did find some New Orleans beer. So I’ll make do with the blessings I have.