This past weekend was that time of year again. Every Labor Day holiday in New Orleans brings Southern Decadence rolling into town. For anyone who doesn’t know, Southern Decadence is the largest gay event in the southern United States. People come from around the globe to partake in the festivities and unique culture of New Orleans. Most of our Decadence visitors and participants are gays or lesbians, though many are not.
Even though I am a senior here at Loyola and have been living in this city for three years, I still didn’t understand what Decadence had to offer. Horrible tales of massive quantities of hardcore drugs, nudity and public sexual encounters were the only stories to reach my ears. Essentially, I had heard many terrible things about Southern Decadence, and nothing to its credit.
Even though I am gay, I have never had much desire to attend the festival. Yet this year is probably my last in town, so I decided I was going to go and see what Southern Decadence was all about. More than that, when I stepped off the streetcar, on my way to the festival, I was a man on a mission. I was going to judge for myself. I was determined to find the good in Southern Decadence, even if I had to spend the entire night in the French Quarter.
I didn’t have to spend the entire night downtown, but it did take me a while to realize what Decadence was all about. In most parts of the Quarter, and even most of the length of Bourbon Street, it seemed like business as usual for a Friday night in the French Quarter. The streets were filled with the usual mix of New Orleans tourists. It wasn’t until almost the end of Bourbon Street that it got really crowded, and the mix of the mob shifted to men. I had reached my destination. I went into one of the gay bars at the end of Bourbon, half expecting to be greeted by throngs of naked men.
Instead, a small gathering of Loyola sorority girls saw me and almost immediately pulled me into their circle.
I wasn’t satisfied with my experience thus far. I had come to judge the festival for myself, though almost all I had seen so far were Loyola faces. I moved down the bar and ordered a drink.
Things seemed to go downhill from there. Shortly after striking out on my own, I was groped inappropriately more times than I can recall, and even asked what my price was – I was mistaken for a prostitute.
But somehow, amid it all, I had missed the point. Southern Decadence draws a lot of people from all over the world. Some of them come with the intention of going wild in our city – to them, New Orleans is just a playground. But just like the traditional Mardi Gras season, a lot of people come to New Orleans to watch other people go crazy and to experience the unique culture.
Most visitors simply aren’t running around drunk and naked – they simply do what I did and what my sorority friends did. They come to watch everyone else and to see what Southern Decadence is all about.
