The bartender at Pirate's Alley in New Orleans said it was an "irregular" Mardi Gras. To most, imagining a "regular" Mardi Gras might be a taller order than the Hand Grenade cocktails on Bourbon Street's Tropical Isle. But a tragic collapse at the Hard Rock Hotel under construction on Canal Street had yet to be fully excavated, and the bartender's friend---a voodoo priestess---said bad juju from the unburied still haunted the Crescent City. I had gone back to Louisiana, where I'd spent a year teaching, to revisit some familiar haunts, until cancellations left me worried my trip had been in vain. Following a friend's advice, I rented a car and headed westward toward the Cajun Music Capital, known to country music fans as "Big Mamou." The travel along U.S. 10 was surprisingly smooth compared to the bustling East Coast interstate jams. Often, unless a bridge is blocked, even "heavy" traffic in Louisiana means only a slight delay. It's the one time locals lack their "laissez-faire" attitude---perhaps because slowdowns could cause their "to go" daiquiris, purchased via drive-through window, to melt. My journey took me first through Baton Rouge, with a stopover at the LSU bookstore to buy a T-shirt from the recent NCAA national football champs and visit their mascot, Mike the Tiger, who was pacing around his pen near "Death Valley" stadium. I had booked an Air BnB in Lafayette, a college town about two hours from New Orleans, and slightly over 30 miles southeast of Mamou. My shuttle driver in New Orleans had family in Houston, where many locals relocated after 2005's Hurricane Katrina. Once he hit Lafayette, he said, it felt like he was in the home stretch. While in Lafayette, I was able to catch one of several Mardi Gras parades. The celebrations start a full month before the calendar reaches Fat Tuesday and reach full steam in the week leading up. In fact, many of the schools in Louisiana are closed for holiday the entire week of Mardi Gras, although some prefer using it as an opportunity to get out of town. After taking back roads through the heart of Acadiana---Cajun country---past stretches of marshland and rice fields, I reached Mamou. At first, it reminded me of an abandoned ghost town out of an old West movie. I was assured, however, that the coming days would bring an estimated 20,000 people to the little downtown block, mostly populated by bars. Each Saturday morning, radio station KVPI does a broadcast of authentic Cajun music, with many of the words in French, live from Fred's Lounge. I was lucky to catch a front-row spot in the packed house, but even those who can't make it can listen to the station's internet live-stream. Because it was a special Mardi Gras celebration, another stage was set up on the street outside with bands playing swamp-rock classics all day long---including my personal favorite, the 60s R&B hit "I Got Loaded," as well as the requisite "Big Mamou," first written in 1928 and popularized by country stars like Waylon Jennings and Hank Williams Jr. Another classic, "Jambalaya on the Bayou," recorded famously by Williams' father, Hank Sr., was also in high demand. And yes, the jambalaya---a meat- and rice-based treat---was in plentiful supply, as were links of boudin (pronounced boo-DAN) sausage and bountiful boiled crawfish, typically served in 3-pound portions with potatoes and corn. Unlike the floats that the krewes of New Orelans are famous for, a Cajun Mardi Gras includes some unexpected customs, such as masked riders on horseback. In fact, I was told it was called a "run" instead of a "parade" and involved chasing a chicken. Other offbeat local traditions are slightly more frightening, such as that of Gheens, where "ghouls" in capuchon hats chase after children to whip them with switches until they beg mercy. Although I was unable to stay for the communal Mardi Gras gumbo, using ingredients collected during the day's courir, I could sense the party was just getting started and that my hours there were but a small taste of the revelry before the 40 days of Lenten penitence commenced and Big Mamou transformed back into a sleepy, Southern town.