We are coming into my second favorite time of the year.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve always been a fan — many times a participant — of Mardi Gras.
There is something about the season that just gets me as anxious as a child at Christmas. It’s hard to explain. In some ways, it’s the atmosphere and the activities surrounding the final days leading to Ash Wednesday that get me charged.
In my early years growing up in Baton Rouge, Mardi Gras parades were pretty restricted to the big show in New Orleans, New Roads, which was west of Baton Rouge, and Lafayette. I remember as a child going to New Orleans to catch the parades the Sunday before Mardi Gras. We made a daylong outing, driving down in the morning, having lunch in Metairie, and then camping out on Canal Street to watch a series of parades. When I was in college, I remember going one Sunday with the family and my wife (then my girlfriend) and seeing Bob Hope cruise down Canal Street as the first Bacchus.
Mardi Gras Day, I went to New Orleans with my soon-to-be in-laws to watch parades from St. Charles Street. It was a great set up. Marcia had an aunt who worked for the State of Louisiana, which had an office right on the parade route. The state employees paid for the utilities and a janitor to clean the building up after the parade for the privilege of using the building for the day.
After we were married, work and other considerations kept us from going to Mardi Gras, but that soon changed, especially when I began working for a weekly newspaper in Port Allen, across the Mississippi from Baton Rouge and I became acquainted with Addis, a small town south of Port Allen, which put on one very interesting Mardi Gras celebration.
Things got even better when we moved to the Coast, where we enjoyed parades in Ocean Springs, Gautier, Pascagoula and Biloxi. Pascagoula’s was a big parade for a city its size, and full of fun. Working the weekend the Saturday before Mardi Gras was not work.
It was a treat because you could meet people, enjoy the bands and the floats, catch a few beads and even spend time with your family. I remember covering one parade while riding a float and writing about the experience.
On the Coast, I always took Mardi Gras Day off and went to Biloxi. For me this was therapy. If you want to blow off steam and escape the pressures of life, go to Mardi Gras and act a little crazy. It’ll do wonders.
Our local celebration is a week from Saturday, when Vicksburg’s parade rolls down Washington Street and the Carnival de Mardi Gras with its gumbo cook off cranks up right after the parade. I’ll probably be working that weekend, but covering these events will be a pleasure and the gumbo ain’t bad either.
Hope I see you there.

John Surratt is a staff writer for The Vicksburg Post. He can be reached at john.surratt@vicksburgpost.com.