Photo: Madeline Fox

Before I moved to New Orleans, I had visited for Mardi Gras once. I thought I knew what it was all about: Expensive beers, raucous crowds and frat boys offering beads for bad behaviors. My college trip to the French Quarter for on Fat Tuesday was all I thought I needed to know. I arrived as a new resident of New Orleans with the idea that I'd checked that square.

I was wrong.

As a tourist, I hadn't experienced Mardi Gras at all. It's not a weekend of hedonism for the sake of all things pleasurable. It's a season between twelfth night and lent where everyone eats and drinks, and drinks and eats, and is generally merry, all in the name of the baby Jesus.

It's totally a family affair.

Nearly every night for two weeks leading up to Mardi Gras Day — that's today, if you're following along — there are at least two parades to catch. We're talking no-holds-barred floats and costumed riders, marching bands and the whole bit.

The thing that struck me most was the fact that the spectacle is nearly entirely privately funded. I had come from California, where any event that drew a crowd was sponsored... Where every festival or celebration had the unwritten motto: "Isn't this cool? Now give me your money."

Not so for New Orleans' Mardi Gras. In fact, it works quite the opposite. The groups that organize the parades are called "Krewes" — they're like clubs or civic organizations. It's a status symbol to ride in a parade — no small expense, and a priority for many who participate. Though each Krewe is different, all parade riders by law must be masked. Bankers, lawyers, doctors and other professionals don masks and tights, and spread their wealth to the commoners along the parade route.

Yes. Beads.

They symbolize money. They are money since each rider buys what they throw themselves. Why would you care about strands of cheap plastic beads, you wonder? Because more than collecting them, it's about sharing.

Here's how it works:

1. You get your beer, your spare beer, and a spot on the curb along the parade route. If you're lucky, you've got a base camp at someone's nearby home with a bathroom and a pot of jambalaya on the stove. This is surprisingly easy to work out, because New Orleanians are so hospitable and generous. You might meet, and visit the homes of three new people in a night.
2. You wave your arms like a wild person when the floats come by. Forget pride. Shout, "Hey! Hey! Throw me something, Mister! Over here! Wohoo! Over here, over here!" It is considered bad form to tackle or knock other parade-goers out, no matter how good the throw.
3. Stand like a proud peacock with your impressive bead collection on display until the next float comes by. Compliment strangers around you on their successful haul. Offer them your spare beer if they're out. 
4. Make your way back to base camp, meet new people along the way, exchange beads, repeat step one.

The biggest party night through all this is Lundi Gras, or Monday before Fat Tuesday. People go to parades, parties and bar hop through the night. Mardi Gras Day is an official holiday. Like Christmas or New Year, the office is closed. But you may not sleep in. Your probably... inevitably... hungover presence is required to be back on the curb, in costume, by 8am when the Zulu parade starts.

There is so much history and tradition connected with New Orleans' celebration of Mardi Gras, that it's too much to share in one post. And after experiencing it for several years from the perspective of a resident, my knowledge of it doesn't scratch the surface. Here's the main takeaway I got from living it: It's the greatest example I've ever seen of how a community can come together and share, just for the sake of it.

Happy Mardi Gras everyone — Hope you have some Fat in this Tuesday.