Hosting Myself Out of a Party

Photo credit: STL from Above

What if you hosted a party and nobody came? Or worse, only one person came, so you had to put on a brave face for hours until the event was over and you could have a good, long cry?

It would be damn tempting to never have a party again. Or at least not a Soulard Mardi Gras parade pre-party.

But at some point during the long year between one Lent and the next, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, there was another perspective on why people who had partied with me in the past didn’t return. Maybe they were comfortable enough to go on their own. And maybe that was a good thing.

So instead of avoiding the topic with the no-shows, I approached it with curiosity. Sure enough, some of my friends had attended. On their own. Some had joined parade krewes. Some had gotten to know other folks who were hosting other parties. And some had decided they’d already made enough Mardi Gras memories to satisfy them for life.

The following year, I decided I would have another party. But this time, I would focus on friends who were Mardi Gras virgins. Many of them had heard horror stories and seen photos of the drunken throngs. They didn’t know there was a whole family-friendly section with parking not too far away. They didn’t know how easy it was to come and go as you pleased, if only you knew the inside scoop.

And I decided not to stress about who showed up and who didn’t. Now, a decade later, I leave the RSVPs very loose. I just make approximately the same amount of food (always dishes that freeze and reheat well, in case of copious leftovers) and let invitees know what time they need to arrive by if they want to attend the parade.

My experiment with being a Mardi Gras doula has been truly wonderful. I’ve been seeing one of St. Louis’ largest and most joyful outdoor events through new eyes every single year. The only time I haven’t hosted a party in two decades is when I’ve been traveling to other cities and relying on Mardi Gras doulas there.

Last year I gave myself the gift of another “first”: Organizing a krewe of my own for a float. It was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion that created beautiful memories for 40 people, most of whom had never been in a parade before in their lives, and some of whom had never even seen the St. Louis Mardi Gras tradition before committing to take part in it with us. My purple, green, and yellow jingly jester hat is off to them.

Mardi Gras rookies, take note: Next year’s parade falls on Feb. 14. I issued my first invitation today.