Poetic cultural crossroads

I just remembered a story that happened during Mardi Gras that I had to blog about before I forgot about it because I think it attests greatly to the racial diversity of New Orleans. And as Dr. Hunt said today, this incident is one that I really cannot imagine happening any other place than New Orleans. So it was Saturday night and I had gone to watch the Endymion parade in Lee's Circle and it was such a poetic scene. I was standing on a fence with the big pillar statue in front of me, and behind that was some hotel, I think it was called Hotel La Cirque, and as night fell, I noticed how the hotel had made use of its outdoor lights and projected various images of happy and unhappy faces using the three Mardi Gras colors: purple, green, and gold. Besides that, I could see the parade coming 10 minutes before it reached the part of the street right in front of me. But next to me, unfortunately, was a partially tipsy and maybe horny elderly couple which was a little disturbing. I became a little annoyed by all the beer cans flying to the ground and the savage yelling. But on the other side of me, I met an Arab student who had brought his friend from Palestine to New Orleans to experience Mardi Gras. The friend could not speak a work of English, so the student translated and it was so interesting learning about his culture back home and the stark differences with New Orleans, but also it was interesting to see his excitement at this festival, foreign to both him and to myself. Just before Endymion reached us, a black mother approached the fence with her baby daughter looking for a spot to watch the parade and she struck up a conversation with the Arab student and his friend. Apparently they hit it off well because the very next moment I looked over, the man who knew no English was playing with the little girl as if they had known each other previously. And after yet another glance their way, I saw him holding the baby as if she were his own daughter. Not to sound cheesy or anything, but it was actually very beautiful. Amid all this drunken revelry and noise and free love were two individuals who had never before experienced Mardi Gras, and who could not communicate properly in the common language of every other member of the Endymion audience. And both had the largest smiles on their faces. I thought how a lot of what people do during such parties provides temporary, fleeting happiness to escape from the harsh realities of real life, but what I witnessed between this Arab-speaking young man and this still teething African-American baby seemed to provide genuine, truly memorable happiness. And in front of us was a group of young men from Canada, and every time they caught a string of beads or a sparkly light-up goody, they would not hesitate to give it to either this foreigner or this baby. Three very distinct cultures overlapped all because of Mardi Gras; Mardi Gras was a reason for people coming together and sharing a common experience, besides families barbecuing on St. Charles or sororities taking a trip down to Bourbon Street. The memory made by that encounter was the best birthday gift I could have asked for because I could never have witnessed such a scene in Colorado, to be honest. And all of it is due to Mardi Gras. Poetic, right?