The Krewe de Thone: Chapter One

As I opened the front door, a crisp, cold air swept by me. It was February in New Orleans which meant while most parts of the country were still white with winter snow, the southeast region was in full bloom of green, purple and gold. 

I stood in the doorway and focused my attention on my front yard. My mom, walking her usual one hundred miles per hour while Linda, the event planner, practically behind her trying to keep up. Linda, or Aunt Linda, as I called her, was my mothers sidekick. During the prime times of Mardi Gras I saw her more than my own father. My mother served as the brains of the operations while Aunt Linda the arms. She made all of my mothers Mardi Gras fantasies come alive every year. 

I watched the packed St. Charles streetcar pass in the distance and wondered what it would be like to be a tourist. 

My mom caught my eye again, still ring leading the circus which had appeared overnight in our front yard. Black and white dance floors constructed under several white event tents had taken over the grass. I observed the landscapers, florists, and decorators perfecting every detail. The event taking place tonight was not a circus but the annual Krewe de Thone Mardi Gras Ball. 

The Krewe de Thone, founded by great grandpa, has stayed within the family ever since. The tradition kept alive by continuing to host the notorious Krewe de Thone Mardi Gras Ball, always hosted on the Saturday before the Krewe parades through the city. Krewe de Thone does not fall short of the characterization of New Orleans, a city that swears by tradition.

I kept my distance as my mother and her troupe scrambled through the yard. The transformation always bewildered me. Each year seemed to hold more spectacles than the previous year. 

My mother amazed me. She had married into this lifestyle, the Mardi Gras lifestyle. Most people go through the year with some set dates on the calendar: birthdays, anniversaries, religious holidays. But in this house, Mardi Gras was not just an event which my mother could write on the calendar next to a star. The depths to which she was responsible for the Krewe caused her the early abandonment of her career as an accountant. It was obvious that she loved my father enough to make his priorities her own. I had always believed that love was her motive in marrying my father. 

My father, William Pennington IV, had been born into wealth. It was his great-grandfather, William Pennington, who had controlled the oil industry on the south side of the Mississippi. The wealth that he acquired from this industry gave him enough money to live comfortably and play even more comfortably. So he did what any good and loyal New Orleanian would do, he started a Mardi Gras Krewe. Named Thone after his wife’s maiden name. Therefore, my father was something of a local celebrity which my mother had no problem marrying into. My mother was no rags to riches story, however. She came from money too but her circumstances were different. Her lineage did not lie in the oil industry but in the cargo industry. The two were introduced by their families on a blind date. The rest is history. 

I walked into the kitchen where three chefs were cooking up a storm of authentic Cajun food. The appetizers, soups, entrees, and desserts were all being prepared under the orders of Chef Scott. 

Chef Scott was even older than my parents. He no longer cooked but he led the team of chefs. I was hungry for lunch, and had set out to find the Chef in the hopes of something more than a sandwich.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and quickly turned around but no one was there. An old, wrinkly, and familiar face popped out in front of me. 

“Chef Scott!” 

“How are you, precious? You look hungry! Oh, I know just the thing for a growing girl like you,” he said. 

He was like my grandpa although his age remained a mystery to all. If I had to guess, I would say eighty, maybe seventy?

“Cajun Shrimp Creole, ma’am. It is the very best thing we have on the menu tonight.”

“Oh my! Mr. Scott this looks delicious! Thank you.” 

“Of course sweetheart,” he said. “Take as much as your little heart desires.”

After savoring every bite, I met eyes with the clock and realized it was already time to start getting ready for the ball night. I said I quick prayer that I would still fit in my dress though I had just ate my weight in shrimp.  

As I walked over to the sink to dispose of my plate, I looked outside the window and onto the lawn. Half of the crew was still out there working but the yard looked amazing. I looked quickly for my mom and Aunt Linda but they were nowhere to be seen. 

I noticed a few tourists standing near the front gate that faced St. Charles. They were snapping pictures on their iPhones of the elaborate scene. Good idea, I thought. I ran to the third floor balcony to get an aerial shot of the yard. “Getting ready for the Krewe de Thone Ball!” I put as the caption and then pressed enter. My phone buzzed in my hand and I looked down at the notifications: “1 like”, “1 comment.” I pressed the comment notification, and then read, “Ryan Guidry commented: See you soon!”

Ryan Guidry had just moved to New Orleans from Seattle and was a complete alien. He was fair-skinned with ungodly blue eyes. For a while, our only interaction was the fact that he sat behind me in Calculus but then when he joined Debate Team, I made it my priority to understand his kind. He was surprisingly down to earth despite his good looks. When I heard this was his first Mardi Gras Ball, I invited him on a whim, almost more as a kind gesture, for sure thinking that he would refuse the invitation, but he surprisingly did not. 

Shit! I yelled out loud as I looked down at the time. The time had already approached to start getting ready for the ball. I ran downstairs and saw that my room was already occupied by a small group of women, my ball primping squad. 

Two hours later, I stood in the mirror and surveyed the work. I seemed to be missing my final touch, my crown. After turning my room upside down trying to find it, I remembered that my mom had been letting the glue dry. 

Down the hallway, I peered outside the window to see the yard already occupied. Dusk creeped in as the lawn was already began to crowd. I looked around to see if I recognized any of the bodies since all the guests had masks on. My spying was interrupted by loud screaming. It didn’t take me long to realize that the screaming was coming from behind my parents closed door at the end of the hall. This did not come as a surprise to me. 

As much as I loved my father, he had the temper of a raging bull. Anything could set him off, and the time it took for him to regain his cool was quite dramatic. Once before a ball, he had been so angered by that he threw a chair out the window. Luckily, through our back window, and it landed in our neighbor’s pool who were attending our ball in the lawn. My father had the security go pick it up while our neighbors were occupied in our front yard. 

My thoughts suddenly interrupted as my mother emerged from the room. 

“Where’s your crown? Kendell! Stop spying on the guests and finish getting ready, for Christ’s sake! You have a problem with watching people. Go get yourself ready! We are being presented in ten minutes.” 

“Mom, you took my mask and I can’t find it!” I snarked back. 

“It’s on the dining room tables downstairs. Hurry, go get it and make sure all the glue is dry now.” 

As I walked into the living room, I heard noises coming from the basement. Were my parents really having the workers stay this long on a Saturday night? Their desire for perfection sometimes astounded me.  

The remodeling of the basement had been my parents latest project. Since the whole town is below sea level, it is rare to find a basement in New Orleans. Therefore, my parents took much pride in their restoration project. 

Though you could never tell now, our house was one of the original houses on St. Charles. The house first belonged to my great great grandfather Pennigton who had it then willed it for future generations to inherit. Over the years, much reconstruction has taken place as each family adds their own touch.

Just as I found my crown, I heard my parents coming down the stairs. 

“Hi, sweetie. You look beautiful,” my dad said and hugged me. 

I could hear the party outside, the jazz band and the voices of people. Someone came on the microphone and the noise began the simmer down. 

“Ladies and and gentleman, your Krewe of Thones royalty.” We walked out from our large front doors, the perfect royal family.

I became immediately intoxicated by the sights, sounds, and smells. I stood there with my parents as people came and greeted us. Masked member after masked member shook hands the hand of my father and then kissed the hand of my mother and I. 

Three huge tents each housed either the bar, the food or the dance floor. At this point, the bar tent was the most crowded.  However, the progression between the three was more than predictable. Everyone always started at the bar. In a city known for its alcohol consumption, these partiers did not disappoint. As the drinking led to dancing, I observed the progression as the members were now taking over the dance floor. 

Two kinds of members make up a Mardi Gras Krewe; the members and the riding members. Riding members must pay double the dues which allows them to ride on the float during the parade. The journey of becoming a regular member to a riding member does not simply stop at the payment of dues. The Krewe has a ritual in which each member must participate in to complete their transition. As the biggest secret in the Krewe, the ritual is performed in private, in the presence of the King and Queen only. The time was approaching for the ritual to begin. 

The announcement was made for all new riding members to gather before the crowd. They were led by the King and Queen into the house. Each year at the ball, regular members that have progressed to become a riding member for the first time wear matching masks for their announcement. Previous to the ball, no one knows who has made the switch. The ball is a coming out of sorts. There were four members in the masks all lined up. I struggled to recognize them at first. Aunt Linda the event planner, Ron the landscaper, and Chef Scott? Who was the last one though? Ryan? But they filed into the house too quickly to ask. 

Most of the guests were highly intoxicated at this point.  One hour later, I watched as one by one each new rider entered into a party with excitement though, only three had returned. Where was the fourth? I decided to go investigate. The front doors were locked. I snuck around the side of the house to enter in through the back door. I heard the same noises coming from the basement that I had earlier. I walked over to the basement window. 

I recognized the profiles of my parents, still dressed in their royalty attire. What were they leaning over? It appeared to be a body bag. With closer inspection I realized there was a body inside. Was it dead? Who was it? I tried to see as my father zipped up the bag but the only thing I saw before it zipped was a mask, the mask of a new rider. 

As my brain began to comprehend the situation, my parents eyes met mine at the window.