"Sometimes the celebration is all they have." The music fills the air as the first band rides by, playing up a storm while dancers with frilly parasols pluck willing members of the crowd to join them. Yrael manages to secure the three of them a good position from which to view the parade, close to the front. Just in case either of them would like to dance, of course.

"New Orleans is an up-close and personal city, it's true," Yrael grins. "It does nothing by halves."

That goes for everything from the delicious food, divine music and art to the dirt and drugs and blood. He loves it.

"I did mean it when I said it was festival season. I think there is some celebration or another every week from now until the autumn equinox."

A few more colorful floats and people riding cars approach, the riders waving and cheering, tossing leis and strings of beads to the crowd. It may not be Mardi Gras, but when you have beads left over, you might as well use them. A small but spirited marching band follows, their conductor dancing to the beat. Beyond the band streams a long banner like the American flag with the red and white stripes replaced with the colors of the rainbow, held up by numerous people. Others carry signs of remembrance and dedication.

"They revel in life, aware of the proximity of death," Yrael murmurs, watching the crowd with almost a proprietary air. "Keeping afloat in the roil of chaos as best they can."