Interspersed between them all, Flambeau dancers carry the torches that historically provided the parade's only illumination. All but the dancers toss a few beads to the masses. To the dancers the parade route spectators throw small change. But here the marching band's percussive flares emanate from bass drum and snares. We groove to intoxicating beats.
Cymbals flash and trumpets blare above the sousaphone's throttling baroom froom-foom.
Underlying it all, the fundamental note rolls up from down the line where the howling mass coaxes strings of plastic beads from the Krewe. Soon the band marches on. The fountain floats near. A friend of mine confessed to not understanding the Marxian concept of Commodity Fetishism. The prospect of catching strings of plastic beads during Mardi Gras provides as good an example as any.