Shame on Cascade Stables (or Mom, You Were Right)

From the title of this post, you can guess that our experience walking horses in the Krewe D'Etat parade was not a positive one. Allow me to recount the whole experience and you can see for yourself why.

We arrived at the stables at 3pm Friday along with the other walkers, grabbed a Cascade Stables t-shirt and hat and waited around for about 45 minutes. During that time we learned a few things from people who had already walked horses in a parade the day before. We found out about how much we would get paid ($30 from the stable, plus tips from the riders), that the horses were not owned by the stable, and that they were probably going to dope the horses. This last statement was affirmed when I saw a stable employee walking around with a cup full of syringes.

After the waiting around period, the stable owner, Barbe Smith, came out to talk to us. She told us three things. One, the riders pre-tipped, so don't bug them for more tips. Two, pretend like you know what you're doing even if you don't. And three, don't stop under the overpass because someone could die. Then they loaded up the horses and the walkers and took us to the start of the parade route.

On the way to the parade, we met a woman who is boarding her horse at the stables and she told us a little more about the horses we would be leading. Most of them had never walked in parades before and had been purchased at auction months earlier. The stable rents the horses from outside parties specifically for the parades and afterward the horses likely go back to auction. This woman we met had been riding some of the horses over the previous week and told us that they are not well-trained riding horses, either. We also heard from the other walkers that the people who would be riding the horses did not necessarily know anything about riding.

One scary thing that happened was when they were unloading the horses from one of the trailers. I didn't see what caused this, but one of the horses freaked out coming off the trailer and either fell or reared and then fell. I looked over just in time to see the horse flip onto its back. It stayed down for several moments, but eventually got up and seemed to be okay.

I was given a small chestnut horse named Sport to lead. He looked like an older horse and was fairly calm throughout all the excitement of marching bands practicing nearby, floats lining up, and revelers passing through. I met my rider soon after we got there and he told me he had been doing this for 25 years, knew how to ride, and could go off-tether. I confirmed that with Barbe before the parade started and she said it was fine. We had to wait around for probably another half an hour, during which time my rider came by and fed Sport carrots, stable hands checked the tack and added more gold spray paint to Sport's hooves, and one stable employee injected my horse with some sort of tranquilizer.

By this point it was clear that those of us walking the horses were barely regarded as people. No stable employee told me anything about what to expect in the parade or why they were doping the horses, nor did anyone give any of the walkers instructions about leading horses, even though most of the other walkers we talked to had zero experience working with horses. By this point Brendan and I were both infuriated and didn't know what to do other than our best in leading these horses and trying to keep our horses, our riders, and ourselves safe throughout the parade.

So the riders mounted up and the parade began. The next scary thing that happened was a horse got spooked by something (there were a myriad of things that could have scared an untrained horse. The flambeaux were blamed. Flambeaux are people who walk alongside the parade with giant flaming sticks), reared, and the rider fell off. He had a bloody lip, and I heard that the horse had stepped on him after he fell off. That horse was pulled and the rider was going to be taken to the hospital. I never heard anything else about how he was. (Brendan: I overheard my rider talking with the man in the car ahead of us. The fellow who went to the hospital had no critical injuries.)

We continued on, and once we were walking down Magazine Street I took the lead off my horse, but stayed up near his head in case anything went wrong. My rider was having fun and seemed confident, and Sport seemed fine aside from uncomfortable from being held on too tight a rein. The parade moved very slowly, and there were times when we would stop for what seemed like a long time before moving very slowly again.

About 15 or so minutes into the parade at a point when we were stopped, I noticed Sport pawing the ground a lot, and keeping his head very low to ground, and behaving in a way I've seen horses behave when they are about to try and lie down. I also noticed that his neck was very sweaty. I told my rider I was afraid Sport was going to try and lie down and asked him if I could put the lead back on and walk him around. He was fine with that. I began leading Sport in circles and about the time we completed our third circle Sport went down. Barbe's son, who'd been leading a horse just ahead of mine, handed his horse off to Brendan and came running over. It all happened so fast, but I remember telling my rider to let go of the reins and Barbe's son helping to get his feet out of the stirrups. Then Barbe's son took the lead and got Sport up again, and I went over to my rider and helped him up. He was a little shaken, but fine, and ready to get back on if Sport was okay.

Sport was not okay. This horse had been fine when unloaded from the trailer. He was calm, but also very alert and energetic. But when he went down, he was sluggish and sweaty and could barely hold his head up. The only reason he went down was because of the tranquilizer. I told Barbe's son I didn't feel comfortable leading a horse that might fall down, and he said he would lead Sport for awhile. He kept saying he would fine once the parade got moving again. So, once it was moving, my rider got back on, but Sport was not sound. His hind right leg wasn't moving quite right, and Barbe's son made the judgment call to take him out of the parade. My rider ended up getting into a convertible just ahead of us and riding in that for the rest of the parade.

Barbe's son took Sport back, which meant Brendan got to lead his horse, which was carrying the Krewe captain (the organizer of the parade). I took turns with another walker leading a horse named Rita. Rita was hard to lead. She constantly wanted to go faster. The man who was leading her was doing his best, but he had very minimal horse experience, and I had a hard time with her too even though I have a lot of horse experience. In the circumstances, though, it was nearly impossible to get a horse to listen.

It was around 10pm when we finally got to the end of the parade. They loaded up the horses as they arrived, but since they were staggered throughout the parade we had to wait awhile for everyone to show up. By this time, we had been working steadily for 5 hours with no breaks or water. They did not offer us water at this time either, though some of our fellow walkers had acquired alcohol from their riders at the end of the parade. We had to go back to the stables in order to get paid, so we chatted with the other walkers while we waited. No one else we talked to had had horses rear or fall down, but Brendan did hear that a total of ten horses had been taken out that night, both from the Krewe D'Etat parade and the parade just ahead of it.

I'm still so angry about it. These people, Cascade Stables, and namely Barbe Smith, the owner, are running a completely shoddy operation that is dangerous to the horses, the walkers, and the riders. They are putting everyone in the worst possible situation. The horses that are terrified because they've never been in parades before (let alone Mardi Gras parades, which have huge screaming crowds along the entire route who come running up the horses to try and get beads or doubloons from the riders), and to try and counter that they drug the horses, which causes a host of other possible problems, like what happened with my horse. Then there are walkers who are nervous because they have no idea what they're doing who are at risk for injury. One woman we met who had walked in a parade the day before had a broken toe from a horse stepping on her foot. Something like that could happen even to a horse-person, but if these people were given just a little bit of training it would greatly minimize the risk. And it's not as if there wasn't time. We were all at the stables just standing around for nearly an hour. They could have given all the walkers a chance to lead the horses around and simply get used to it. And then there's the riders who don't know what they're doing. I had to continually tell the rider on Rita to let up on the reins. He apologized for this and said he kept holding them even though he knew he didn't need to because when she started moving he just instinctually grabbed at them as something to hold onto.

Horses, riders and walkers are getting injured because of what Cascade Stables is doing. And for what? Just to make a buck. Part of me almost wishes one of the riders (because they're the ones with any kind of rank and money) would get seriously injured to draw attention to what's happening. But I don't really wish that. Instead, I'm going to try and draw attention to what's happening. I'm going to wait until we go to the stables on Thursday to pick up our checks so I can try and find out what they're using to dope the horses, then I'm going to write to both The Gambit and the Times-Picayune. I'm hoping this will be the last year Cascade Stables is able to provide horses for Mardi Gras parades.

A Gras Weekend

Parades everywhere.

I suppose we haven't made it clear, and if you never live in New Orleans, you would never know. Mardi Gras is not the day before Ash Wednesday. Mardi Gras is a season. Beginning at least 3 weekends before the day itself, New Orleans celebrates with regular parades and festivals (I suppose we know it as Carnival). And by regular, I mean that the library closes an hour early every day this week to accomodate the parades.

Everybody loves the parades well enough that the same people will tell us again and again "THIS is the parade you need to see." A few days after that one, they say "THIS is the parade you HAVE to see." And they disagree. And some of them will consider one parade famous, and others another, and they may not concede any credibility to another's claim.

Well, we really just figured this out, so we've been seeing parade after parade after parade. We saw two on Saturday and one on Sunday and then I said "STOP" before the 2nd one on Sunday. I felt paraded out. It's more stressful than you might think. Suddenly, you're pelted with hundreds of beads, which are shiny and bright, and you want them because everybody else wants them, and then you have them, and then your neck is too heavy to hold up, and you fall to the ground, and the children scurry to your prone corpse and loot the body.

Sunday was all about that. We went to Family Gras (Fat Family - very Supersize Me) to volunteer with Amia* (names have been changed to protect the innocent) at the Al Copeland Foundation booth (which is raising money for cancer research). While there we saw a genre of performers that I had no idea existed - pre-fame pop singers. Hilary Duff-esque, Justin Timberlake-esque... I had no idea people could be small time tweeny boppers. Stina also realized and told me that there was a legend on stage. It was true. None other than Monkees hottie Davy Jones performed some of the greatest songs of one of the earliest and greatest made-up bands. WOOT!

Going back in time, on Saturday we met the muppetiest dog in the city. His name is Bailey, and he's one quarter Shitzu, three quarters Maltese, 100% Jim Henson. He lives with Matt, against whom and whose friends Stina and I dominated game day. (Settlers: Stina 1st Place, Brendan 2nd, Munchkin: Brendan 1st Place, Stina 2nd, Scrabble: Team Brendan and Stina 1st Place, Lunch Money: Stina 1st Place, Brendan 2nd)

Mardi Gras and Food for Thought

Mardi Gras is a bigger deal than I realized. I thought it was just several days of festivity, this year culminating on February 24, the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday. But about two weeks ago, shortly after all the Christmas decorations had come down, the Mardi Gras decorations began to go up. They are beautiful. The Mardi Gras colors are purple, gold, and green, and you gotta (especially when your favorite color is purple) love a holiday that spotlights those colors. Couple that with the rare but still occasionally seen Valentine's Day decorations, and I am in magical color bliss.

Here are some questions we've been struggling with recently. Why does begging have such a negative stigma attached to it? We stepped into a hotel yesterday to use the restroom on our way home from busking in the Quarter and Brendan noticed that a buffet lunch was in progress. We talked about what it would be like to go to a hotel kitchen as ask them to give us the leftover food from buffets such as that one, food that would otherwise be thrown away. My immediate reaction is that I would never want to do that because it seems like begging.

An article I read awhile back in a sustainable living magazine highlighted a woman who has developed a relationship with her local grocery store. She goes there on a particular day once or twice a week and they give her their just-expired products. She takes what she needs for her family, and delivers the rest to a shelter or food bank (I don't remember the exact details). This is essentially the same situation as the hypothetical one, but it feels so much "nicer." I put that in quotes because it seems like an illusion to me. It's still someone taking someone else's trash.

So why does it so much better than the first example? I think the only reason is because of the extra going to a shelter or food bank. The grocery store and the person who takes what he/she needs and donates the rest can both feel morally superior for having done this good act. I don't mean to demean this--I think it's great that perfectly good food that would otherwise be trash would go to someone's grateful belly. I also think it's great to support shelters and food banks. But why do I react so strongly against something that seems akin to begging and not to something that's also like begging but couched in good deeds?

These are just preliminary thoughts. But I think this question is well-worth considering. There is something wrong that we have such negative reactions to begging.

I'll tell you what I want...

It's a funny thing, how we can really do whatever we want. We have so many options available to us. We can travel wherever we want, perform however we want, spend our days doing whatever we want to do. We keep tossing different ideas around of where exactly we should travel next and how long we should stay there, and it's surprisingly hard to make these decisions. We are influenced both by our desire to make a home and have familiarity, and our desire to experience new places and people and see things we've never seen before. And on top of that there's the performing, and wondering where we'll be successful doing that and whether we're going somewhere to see a place or certain people, or to perform.

So what do we really want? I lied with the post title, because I don't know. But talking about all our options is a fun way to pass the time, so you can count on us considering a million choices and maybe eventually we'll narrow it down to one, or at least a few. There are two sure things: we are staying here through Mardi Gras, and we are flying to Dusseldorf, Germany from NYC on June 30th.