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Last Sunday's Beggin' Pet Parade was perhaps the largest ever. Yet, aside from the few clueless people who had no grasp on the phrase "curb your dog" (or were just too lazy to do that, or godforbid actually pick up after their dog), it was one of the mellowest St. Louis Mardi Gras events I've ever been to.The weather felt weird, a foreshadowing of the tornadoes that would touch down later that night, but the temperature was pleasant, so it was a lovely day to lean against a Soulard brick wall and watch hundreds of dogs trot down the street in tutus, bee suits, cowboy hats or a purple-and-green wash of Manic Panic dye. (There was also a bantamweight Barred Plymouth Rock hen, a drunken miniature pony, a goat, and some ferrets.) Though Mardi Gras' "family weekend" has continued to grow larger, it hasn't gotten any more raucous or rowdy. And it wasn't that people weren't drinking; the beer booths were doing a brisk business, even at 10 a.m.
The main Mardi Gras parade has always been, well, er...a little more exciting. The very first time I visited St. Louis, in February of 1999, I picked up a copy of the Riverfront Times. Not only did I discover the greasy spoon I was sitting in at that very moment, Irv's Grill, was going to close, but that there had been a riot during St. Louis Mardi Gras. Before the word "riot" registered, I thought: What? St. Louis has a Mardi Gras? Fantastic! Of course, as someone who grew up in Utah, I didn't have a firm grasp on what Mardi Gras actually was, though I'd already decided it was charming. After moving here in July of 2001, I finally got to see the parade for myself, and though I got claustrophobic, tired, and cold, I had a pretty good time (and I stayed totally sober, too). Then, the next year, I joined up with the sambistas of Joia and stayed until late afternoon, drumming with them on Ninth and Geyer. There was one encounter I remember vividly which occurred at that same intersection. I won't give the details, but I will tell you that it involved rudeness from a drunk, aging frat boy type in a leather jacket, and that I'm still mad about it. I think it was that year after that when some drunken idiot from Wentzville busted out the front of the neighborhood laundromat, and I thought, "I'm done with this." I think a lot of people decided the same thing.
Two years ago, though, I decided to give Mardi Gras another whirl. We rode the Metrolink downtown; not having to deal with the nuisance of parking meant we were still in a reasonably good mood even after getting stuck behind a really obnoxious, drunken group of people, all wearing purple and green jester's hats, who actually started out behind us, but decided to butt their way to the front row. Eventually, we walked down the street; the closer we got to downtown (and the further away from the beer tents), the thinner the crowds were. We stopped near the overpass, near a flock of ladies with strollers, and not only had a decent view of the parade, but had completely polite interactions with everyone around us. Then, we walked back to the Metrolink via Broadway, thus avoiding the drunken crowds in Soulard. I'd call it a 90-percent-positive experience. I am still scratching my head over the fairly naked-looking truck-bed floats here in the MIdwest (I'm used to the 1950s-style Busby Berkeley floats that are the hallmark of Salt Lake's Pioneer Day parade), but I guess they're an easier platform from which to chuck beads. And they're still floats!
This Saturday, I have a conflict, and definitely can't go down to Soulard for the parade, so it's not even an option. But, I've been asking myself: if I was free, would I go? I'm very curious about how the relatively warmer weather will affect Mardi Gras this year, as late as it is on the calendar. It's a relatively young cultural institution in St. Louis, and even though it's grown quickly (I always hear ours is the second largest in the country, right after New Orleans'), the overall atmosphere has remained pretty juvenile. Watching how the large crowds last weekend comported themselves with common sense and dignity, I've been wondering why things get so out of hand on parade day. Oddly enough, I don't think drinking too much is the primary problem; I saw plenty of intoxicated people on Sunday, and no one was peeing in anyone's yard. I think it's more the assumption that Mardi Gras equals permission for atavistic, Lord of the Flies behavior. Because during the nighttime Fat Tuesday parade, there's a far lower incidence of hooliganism than on parade day. And I don't think that's just because it is on a weeknight.
I'm predicting insane crowd numbers for Saturday, due to the weather. I am keeping my fingers crossed that no one does a superhero crash through a plate glass window. Or gets tear gassed, or has their head busted. Likewise, I'm hoping people mind their manners and act like they live in the 21st century, and stop peeing in people's yards (et cetera). I'm sure lots of people will have the bed-spins that night, and that on Sunday, many others will wake up craving Gatorade and then head to a friendly neighborhood greasy spoon (alas, not Irv's Good Food), for a big dose of Vitamin G. That's on them. And I'm planning on going to the Fat Tuesday Parade. Hopefully the hooligans and party animals will be home with ice packs on their noggins and aspirin in their bloodstreams, still nursing a hangover from Saturday, and get another year closer to realizing that Mardi Gras is definitely a steam-release valve on the lead-up to Lent. But go to New Orleans, and the folks down there can tell you: there's a profound difference between the meaningful, conscious debauch of Carnival, versus grabbing a chance to get away with some Jersey Shore- style sleaze for one day because you are bored.
