I didn’t have one single green piece of clothing for this St. Patrick’s Day revelry in our Bywater neighborhood! Bad Irish lass! Max and Mike were able to represent though. Don’t call me a party pooper — I still made it out, in all my mama glory.
This local parade through our neighborhood and the adjacent Marigny was — dare I say it? — cute. But, just because the parade was tamer than most (say, the big one in NYC where I used to bartend in the East Village and serve cops their green beers at 9 am) didn’t mean it wasn’t fun! It was our first glimpse into the New Orleans bead-throwing tradition. As I was trying to shield Max from getting hit with beads, I failed to protect myself and got pelted a few times in the face. “You gotta look out, lady!” warned a few revelers. Noted!
Brass is everywhere in New Orleans. It’s festive round the clock!
Max thinks these two guys are suspect.
Everyone got into the Irish spirit! Here in New Orleans, there’s always a touch of drama and the macabre, too.
Even New Orleans cops are decorative!
I don’t know who this is, but he was happy to take a picture. Max, however, is dubious.
Max is now officially initiated into a New Orleans tradition. He loves dem beads!
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