Bandera's Cowboy Mardi Gras Parade

If you have a chance to attend next year’s Cowboy Mardi Gras Parade in Bandera, Texas, I recommend that you go. 

Last Saturday’s parade was not like any other I’ve attended in the past but it was very fun to watch.  As I mentioned previously, my niece was riding a donkey and that was what drove me to attend.   

Bandera’s main street was blocked off for the hour-long procession and people were lined up for almost a mile.  There were no elaborate floats like those in other Mardi Gras parades, but instead, there were cars, motorcycles, 18-wheelers, horses, donkeys, camels, mules, longhorns, and decorated golf carts and four wheelers.  There were numerous pickup trucks pulling flatbed trailers and an occasional bus.  There were no marching bands and no drill teams, but music blared from some of the “floats.”

I watched the parade from the middle of the route, joined by two older women, a working police officer, and a young woman from out-of-town who was there to support her sister and brother who were riding mules.  The two older women fought aggressively for every bead thrown, grabbing them mid-air, not giving the rest of us much of a chance.  They knew many of the parade participants, giving them an unfair advantage!  I managed to get a “few.”

Unlike at big city parades, I saw only one street vendor – and he was selling hot dogs from a push-cart.  The shops sold t-shirts and caps commemorating the occasion.  (There was, however, a family in a parking lot giving away puppies – for free.  My brother wanted to take one home but his wife wasn’t in agreement about it.  But if the puppy owners had been more insistent, he would have.)

The Bandera parade was a family-friendly event.  Naturally, there were some adults who had begun drinking early in the day but I saw no rowdy activity and the area was well patrolled (it was noon after all).  The kids had a great time catching beads and eating candy passed out by clowns walking the route.  And quite a few adults and children showed up in costumes to help celebrate.

Bandera Mardi Gras

After work, I’m headed to Bandera.

Today marks the beginning of the 7th Annual 11th Street Cowboy Bar Mardi Gras, which runs through Sunday in the lively Hill Country town.  Bandera, for the uninformed, is the self-proclaimed Cowboy Capitol of the World.  It’s an hour outside of San Antonio, making it a favorite day trip spot for San Antonio and Austin-area residents.

I’ve never celebrated Mardi Gras “cowboy-style” before and I’m sure the festivities aren’t as lavish as in New Orleans, but I can’t wait to go.

You see – my niece is riding a donkey in the parade tomorrow at noon.  Mind you, it’s a miniature donkey.  And she’s very tall.  A life-long equestrienne and instructor, Victoria also works with race horses.  Since childhood, she’s loved nothing more than flying bareback through a pasture on a huge, muscular beast with her long blond hair trailing in the breeze behind her.

This donkey parade might not be the fast-paced thrill ride she’s used to, but she has a great sense of humor and a 4-year-old who’s waiting excitedly to watch his mommy ride.  (He’s planning to take his super soaker to use in case her donkey acts up.  I don’t think that’s going to happen.)

Wrangler is sponsoring her ride and has provided her with new jeans to wear in the event.  That alone, thrilled her. 

The Bandera Mardi Gras is apparently a big event for local residents.  I’ll be there with a group of family members for the parade and gumbo cook-off.  There’s also a costume contest.  I’ll be the lady in the front row with a camera, catching the most beads, and screaming the loudest.

For information about the annual 11th Street Cowboy Bar Mardi Gras, check out this site: www.11thstreetcowboybar.com.

Sample Novel Section

I've been working on a novel for a short time and am now confused about where's it's going.  Maybe I need someone to critique my writing and offer suggestions. This section is merely a draft, and falls somewhat in the middle of the story.  Please give constructive criticism only!  I'm posting this while holding my breath -- it's scary to do this.  Thank you.

The plane touched ground in a series of little bounces before slamming down with the deafening sound of brakes and engines.  I took a deep breath as I peeked out the window, transfixed by the twinkling runway lights.  There it was.  Mexico City.  Home to almost 40 million people, it was the most exciting place in the world as far as I was concerned.  My Disney Land.  I used to visit the city twice a month, while I was in school, riding buses crowded with families and leering young men, just to get there.  I loved the noise, the traffic, the people and the energy that pervaded the city. 

My routine was pretty standard.  After arriving at the station, I’d catch a cab to the American Express office and cash a check.  Then, I’d either walk next door to Pizza Hut for a slice or two of pseudo-Italian pizza or across the street to Sanborn’s and buy a stash of chocolate and decent American snacks.  Then I’d spend the afternoon exploring the city before taking a late bus back north again.

Those afternoons were my favorite times, where I could be anonymous and free to do or go anywhere I wanted.  I’d shop, go to museums and talk to people.  I met men who would offer to take me to dinner – or even home to meet Mama.  I met families who took pity on my being alone, offering to share their meal/home/friendship/etc. with me.  I met a cabbie who threatened to leave me in the middle of the traffic-jammed Reforma if I didn’t promise to meet him for a date that night.  I met good people and scary people, saints and freaks.  I loved interacting with all of them and I always went home with names and phone numbers scribbled on scraps of paper and promises of keeping in touch.

My friends – Antonio especially – never understood why I chose to go there alone.  They didn’t know how free I felt there.  People there didn’t know me and had no preconceived notions about my life.  I was just another pretty Americana who was friendly and brave, alone in a foreign country.  Mexico City was forgiving and welcoming.  It had so many people that it just didn’t care what I did.  It was paradise.

After collecting my luggage and situating it and myself into a cab, I headed to the Hotel Geneve where I planned to spend the next weeks, close to where I’d be working in the Zona Rosa.  An old European-type structure, it had been a grander hotel in the late 70s.  But I still loved to stay there when I was in town and, besides, I’d heard they had recently renovated the place.  It had charm and memories that the newer glitzier buildings lacked. 

I leaned back into the shredding cab seat and willed the muscles in my shoulders and neck to relax.  I had a lot of work to do this week, including wining and dining new clients on Thursday night.  And then on Friday, Jon planned to fly in and join me for a few days.  I closed my eyes for a minute so I could sort it all out.  I hadn’t invited him to come with me and I wasn’t sure I even wanted him here.  But he was convinced that time together would do us good and might even convince me to live happily ever after with him.  He was a dreamer.

Mind you, there really wasn’t anything wrong with Jon.  It was just that everything wasn’t right about him.  I scolded myself for being so shallow, but there were little things that drove me crazy.  Like his cologne.  And when he said certain words, his accent grated on my nerves.  But I think my biggest problem with him was his level-headedness.  He never did anything wild.  He never did anything bad.  He had a steady job and a nice car.  He was respectable in public.  He was friendly and had a zillion friends.  And oh yeah, worst of all, he adored me. 

But he would probably be here soon and I’d better get used to the idea.  Maybe, if I had time, we could rent a car and travel northward during the weekend.  That would be a good thing, I decided.

With Jon, I wouldn’t have to go there alone and no one would misinterpret my reasons for being there.  That is, if I ran into anyone I still knew (which seemed highly unlikely since it had been 25 years since I’d lived there and probably 20 since I’d last visited).  The last visit had been fun and relaxed.  I knew that Antonio was no longer there and met up with old friends and enjoyed being there.  But now it was different.  His brother’s email said that he was living there again several months during the year.  There was always the off-chance that I might run into him.  Having Jon with me might ease any awkwardness that might occur. 

Besides, my relationship with Antonio was long over.  We’d both continued to live and move on with our lives.   We’d both had successful careers and, I presumed, he’d had a wife and family.  I needed to go back to close a different chapter in my life that had nothing to do with him.

Twenty years was a long time and it blurred and erased the bad feelings I’d left behind.