On parade routes, streets and through the French Quarter, New Orleans celebrates Mardi Gras (2024)

Some were sleeping on folding chairs on St. Charles Avenue. Others set up grills on the sidewalk, roasting chicken and ribs near the police barricades. Still others danced and sang with family and friends. All had been up since crack of dawn.

Staking out St. Charles Avenue, in some cases since before dawn, parade-goers waited with patient anticipation along the Uptown parade route Tuesday morning and through the rest of the city, as the Skull and Bones Gang made their traditional rounds through Treme, Masking Indians chanted and danced and flurries of last-minute stitching and glittering began as revelers made themselves ready for Mardi Gras.

In the suburbs, big crowds gathered in Metairie and Covington for Fat Tuesday parades there.

With ideal weather, the celebrations rolled across the city. Freed by the cathartic release of last year’s celebrations — which marked a transition away from the coronavirus restrictions that had canceled the 2021 festivities — New Orleans settled back into its familiar and well-loved traditions with its well-practiced mix of exuberance and ritual.

For Gerald Etienne, who set up on Brainard Street at Jackson Avenue with his children and grandchildren, Fat Tuesday wasn’t just drinking and dancing. It's a legacy he honors.

Etienne said he had been coming to the same spot for 54 years, since his parents bought their house half a block from Jackson Avenue on Brainard in 1969. His father, now 97, was waiting for the family in their home Tuesday as they enjoyed the nearby route.

Elsewhere on the route, Shari Brown positioned herself with her mother, Sharon Charles, on St. Charles Avenue near the Pontchartrain Expressway. Brown wasn’t just there for the city’s celebration. It was her birthday.

Charles was Zulu’s queen in 1985 and said she typically will ride on the parade’s former kings and queens float. But this year she chose to stay with her daughter for her special day. Brown called Fat Tuesday “the biggest free birthday party ever” as she waited patiently to see her relatives who were riding in Zulu.

“I'm just blessed to see another year. I can't think of any better way to celebrate,” Brown said.

Meanwhile, a riot of colors erupted as the Society of St. Anne began their pilgrimage through the Marigny and French Quarter to the Mississippi River. Music drifted among the shotgun homes as the procession flowed through the narrow streets.

Dancers in neon bounced and gyrated atop the Krewe of Dystopian Paradise’s six-foot-high mobile stage on Kerlerec Street as music blasted from the platform’s speakers. The group, which marches in Krewe of Boheme and Chewbacchus, makes a new float every year but “it’s always the one that shakes,” said krewe member Erin Pearson.

“It’s always good when the weather cooperates,” Pearson said. “It’s sunny. It’s warm. It’s breezy but not too windy.”

Around the region, that pleasant weather brought out the crowds. In Metairie, the weather brought more parade-goers than usual to cheer the Krewe of Argus on its 50th roll down Veterans Memorial Boulevard and Covington and Folsom held their own celebrations as well.

But while the season had been largely marked by cooperative weather and the excitement of parades returning to their traditional routes, Fat Tuesday also marked the end of a Carnival that had been stained by tragedy.

A mass shooting at the Bacchus parade on Sunday left one person dead and four others, including a 4-year-old girl, injured. Police arrested a suspect shortly after the shooting. His bond was set Tuesday at $1 million.

There was little evidence that fears of further violence deterred revelers Tuesday, however.

Bright colors, glistening glitter and sparkling sequins filled the French Quarter.

Topical costumes were relatively rare, though some quick thinkers had assembled blow-up suits adorned with the Chinese flag to capitalize on the recent reports of spy balloons. Mushroom caps sprouted in abundance — an apparent coincidence according to some who donned them — as did vegetation ranging from dresses of three-dimensional flowers to swampy vines.

Precision beats rang out from St. Peter and Royal streets as a partiers danced to the rhythms of Omaracuja, a band of samba-reggae drummers from Paris that came to play in Bacchus. Its members had spent the morning performing in the streets of the French Quarter, equally awing the crowds and in awe of the color that swirled around them.

“I didn’t think everyone would be in costume, but it’s so beautiful,” said Julien Menez, who was conducting the group.

Dressed as well-known local attorney Morris Bart, Ann Stevens rested for a bit behind Gallier Hall on the parade route. She and her six friends are all dressed as different local lawyers, including Juan LaFonta and Chip Forstall. Two members of the "Krewe of Injury Attorneys," as she called their group, are from Iowa and were shocked at the day's revelry.

"They have no idea what hit them," Stevens said laughing.

And the costumes weren’t only for adults. Michelle Hales of Norco dressed her daughter like a marching dancer. Hazelle Hales, 1, took tiny steps on the route before the parade started, wearing a gold leotard, purple cape, headpiece and of course, white marching boots with tassels.

Early on Mardi Gras afternoon, John Hyman sat in a red wig, purple top, red tutu, teal fishnets and a mask glittered with the flag of the United Kingdom as he watched wave after wave of French Quarter revelers pass from his porch on Barracks Street. Going by “Union Jackie” for the day, he’d retired to his house for a break after finding the bathroom at the bar where he spent the morning was broken.

“Bring it on, I’ve been here 47 years and I never get tired of Mardi Gras,” Hyman said, adding that he first came from London for Mardi Gras in 1967 and realized “this is where I’m supposed to be.

“The color, the glitter, everything just shimmers,” he said.

As he was chatting, a random stranger in desperate need walked up. Apologizing profusely for his Fat Tuesday faux pas, he begged to use the bathroom.

Hyman chuckled and agreed, quoting Benny Grunch and The Bunch.

“No place to pee on Mardi Gras day,” he said.