So when I was offered the chance to ride with the Krewe of Orpheus this year, it was kind of like a childhood dream coming true. Especially because Orpheus is a super krewe.

Carnival is a multi-week celebration that starts on Epiphany (the 12th Day of Christmas) and culminates on Mardi Gras (the day before Lent officially begins), so the momentum builds in the days leading up to Fat Tuesday. Fittingly, the groups that roll in the final days of Carnival are known as super krewes. Orpheus rolls on Lundi Gras, or Fat Monday, when the excitement has reached fever pitch.

The float we rode on. (Photograph by Emily Slack)

New Orleanian crooner Harry Connick, Jr., his father, and a friend named Sonny Borey founded Orpheus in 1993 because they wanted to see a parade that had music as its focus. The super krewe, still going strong 20 years later, is one of the most popular parades of the season.

When I arrived with my friend and photographer, Emily Slack, at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center, where all the floats were parked, we may as well have been entering Oz. Multi-colored floats the size of 18-wheelers were lined up row after row, creating a papier-mâché-and-spangle forest.

As we stood there gawking, we spotted “Mr. Mardi Gras” himself. Master float builder Blaine Kern, Sr. has been applying his genius to these gigantic, roving masterpieces for decades.

Kern was every bit the gregarious New Orleanian I imagined he’d be, cracking jokes and telling me he knew “a little bit about this stuff.”

He pointed out some of his favorite floats, including a 140-foot sea monster dubbed the Leviathan that debuted in 1998 and has since become a parade staple and a multi-unit float called ”Smokey Mary,” which pays homage to the Pontchartrain Railroad, a pioneering track west of the Alleghenies that eventually transported people to New Orleans as the city gained acclaim as an entertainment district.

“It’s a year-round operation,” Kern said, adding that he and his crew were already working on Mardi Gras 2014.

It was time to receive our costumes: black silk pants, a red-and-white silk top adorned with sequins and an Orpheus sash, and, of course, a mask to be worn under a red hood. According to city ordinances, all riders must stay masked to preserve the history and integrity of Carnival.

While riders don what we playfully refer to as silk pajamas, krewe royalty wear the plumed, sequined gowns and king and jester-esque garb that’s come to be associated with Mardi Gras parades.

We boarded our float and began planning our bead-throwing strategy before our float rolled out of the warehouse and onto the streets. We quickly realized that we were well out of our league.

“Mr. Mardi Gras,” Blaine Kern, Sr., has been a master float maker for decades. (Photograph by Emily Slack)

The riders around us had serious loot. In addition to an array of “light-up” accessories — beads, rings, headbands, and roses — one of our krewe compatriots, Joel, was a veritable Mardi Gras Santa Claus, with bags of stuffed animals, footballs, and toys.

It was go time. We could hear the not-too-far-off crowd begin to roar as the first floats passed. I aped the veterans around me, slinging beads over my left arm and preparing to throw them with my right as we rounded the corner and encountered our first parade goers cheering wildly just inches from the float.

Orpheus began in Uptown, a residential area where families stake out parade perches in front of their homes — which makes bead-throwing easy. But the neighborhood kids were more interested in the goodies Joel had to offer. When I threw beads to one little girl, she asked “That’s it?”

I had to laugh.

Anyone below the age of 10 is a prime target for “throws,” and can get a bit spoiled. After that, if you’re a woman, don’t expect to get much attention again until well after puberty. For guys, childhood is about as good as it gets — unless, that is, you happen to be holding a baby.

(That being said, I couldn’t resist throwing to the adorable, elderly gentlemen that lined the sidewalks.)

As the parade snaked down Canal Street into the French Quarter, the crowds inched toward colossal. Police barricades meant that people couldn’t get close to the floats anymore, and the shoulder-to-shoulder bystanders were grateful to catch anything.

Now in the final stretch, we headed back to the Convention Center, where the Orpheuscapade was being held. The ball was a black tie affair — with Mardi Gras flair. We saw people in tuxedos and glittering gowns stride in wearing beads or masks, and toting coolers filled with beer.

The mustachioed 610 Stompers perform at the Orpheuscapade. (Photograph by Emily Slack)

Everyone who rode in Orpheus was invited to the Orpheuscapade, so I got to see some of the sights myself (you can only see so much when you’re on a float). Celebrity riders “Tillman the Skateboarding Dog” and “Norman the Scooter Dog” kicked off the party with their impressive pet tricks, followed by New Orleans’ favorite walking krewe, the 610 Stompers, who showed off their “extraordinary” mustached moves.

Then it was time for the music. Harry Connick, Jr. led off, creating a concert-like atmosphere. Later performances in the evening included Gary Sinise and the Lt. Dan Band, Trombone Shorty, and more.

I closed the night with a plate of andouille jambalaya and a slice of king cake at the ball. I had to giggle when I chose my piece because there were only two pieces left — one with the baby and one without. (Read this post if you don’t get the joke.)

I decided taking the baby without intending to buy another king cake in the next 24 hours, before Mardi Gras ended, would be bad mojo. And it had been too good a Lundi Gras to take the risk.

Caroline Gerdes is a Nat Geo Young Explorer and a New Orleans native. Follow her story on Twitter @CarolineCeleste.

1. Costumes

Many visitors expect to see parade kings and queens in ornate costume. Donning these plumed garments as part of a krewe court (parade group) is a badge of honor for New Orleans natives.

That being said, whether you’re from near or afar, everyone is invited to wear a costume on Fat Tuesday. Revelers often wear official Mardi Gras colors — purple, green, and gold — and throw on a mask or another Carnival-themed accessory at the parade.

2. Greased Poles

New Orleans started greasing poles to keep revelers from climbing up into balconies along the parade route.
(Photograph by Philippe Leroyer, Flickr)

This year marked the 43rd annual greasing of the poles. No, it’s not what you think.

Before Mardi Gras weekend festivities commence, French Quarter businesses must prepare for the crowds in one surprising way — greasing street level poles so people cannot climb up to private balconies.

The tradition started at the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street, where costumed women and celebrity pole greasers lather petroleum jelly on the hotel’s pillars to prevent outside interloping.

3. Ladders

Mardi Gras has earned a reputation as a raucous event, but it’s actually quite family friendly. If you have kids in tow, head Uptown, or to any number of residential neighborhoods in the city to experience an atmosphere not unlike a state fair, complete with cotton-candy vendors and face painters.

Tourists are often surprised by the funny-looking homemade stands for children. Picture a ladder with a bench attached to the top that children sit in — kind of like a big high chair with wheels on either side.

4. Scandalous Floats

Mardi Gras floats often satirize political events: this one is a comment on a recent Chick-fil-A flap. (Photograph by Emily Slack)

Floats often mock pop culture. And while many of them are outlandish and outrageous, most toe the family-friendly line. This year, for example, there is a float mocking the British Royals’ recent scandals (like nude pool games).

But be warned: There is one parade that is meant for adult eyes only. The Krewe Du Vieux is more risqué, so it runs earlier in the Carnival season — at night, and in the French Quarter. Its satirical themes and bohemian expression make it a Carnival staple…for grown ups.

5. Walking Krewes  

Not every one in a krewe rides on a float. Groups costume together and walk (or dance) in several parades. They also enjoy meandering through the city at will during Carnival. While some walking krewes are decades old, new local favorites like the 610 Stompers play on the silly spirit of Mardi Gras.

6. Endless Fun

Though Carnival spans several weeks, it comes but once a year.

Carnival starts on Epiphany (January 6 this year) and ends on Mardi Gras, the day before Ash Wednesday. The dates surrounding Mardi Gras change every year, just like Easter, according to the vernal equinox.

Carnival gets increasingly more exciting in the days leading up to Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday. But the party eventually does end: at midnight, when Lent begins. So while you can always have a good time in New Orleans, don’t expect Mardi Gras if you show up late to the party.

Caroline Gerdes is a Nat Geo Young Explorer and a New Orleans native. Follow her story on Twitter @CarolineCeleste.

In New Orleans it’s sno-balls, not sno-cones. (Photograph by Robert Giglio)

1. It’s sno-balls, not sno-cones, in New Orleans. 

In New Orleans, don’t dare order a sno-cone at a sno-ball stand. Sno-cones are made with crushed ice. Sno-balls are made with the SnoWizard machine (invented in 1936 in New Orleans), which produces shaved ice so smooth it can be paired with various crèmes. Sno-balls are often served with condensed milk and “stuffed;” sno-balls have a real ice cream center.

2. Don’t Inhale … 

New Orleanians and tourists alike enjoy French Quarter beignets, a fried pastry similar to funnel cake. But, locals know to be wary of the treat’s powdered sugar coating. If you exhale when the beignet is close to your mouth, sugar will fly everywhere. If you inhale deeply, some may go up your nose. Just be careful or wear white — so no one will notice if you become doused in confectioner’s sugar. Another beignet for beginners tip: order a café au lait and dip the beignet like biscotti.

A savory bowl of chicken and sausage gumbo. (Photograph by Julia Frost, Flickr)

3. Gumbo isn’t just one thing.  

Gumbo is a thick soup made with a roux and okra. It’s also a synonym for the word mix, an alternative definition that can be traced back to the dish’s origins. Louisiana’s people represent a gumbo of cultures — African, American Indian, Spanish, and French – and gumbo, the food, is a product of that mixing. Accordingly, the way chefs prepare this signature dish often depends on their heritage. Creole gumbo is prepared with tomatoes (Spanish and French influence), while Cajun (descendants of French Acadians) gumbo is thicker, darker, and spicier. Some recipes use American Indian file powder made from ground sassafras leaves. Gumbo can also be prepared with seafood, chicken, sausage, or alligator. A myriad of combinations hatch from this gumbo of ingredients.

4. Would you like that with red or brown gravy? 

Ditch the ketchup, dip your fries in gravy. (Photograph by Robert Giglio)

Another example of Louisiana’s immigrant influence: the option of red or brown gravy. Red gravy is actually Italian marinara sauce and brown gravy is derived from French au jus sauce. The two ethnic groups brought these sauces from their old countries, and the rest of New Orleans started making them. Over time, the condiments lost their original names and started being ordered according to color. Order a po’ boy (a submarine sandwich made with French bread), fries, or macaroni, and your bound to get asked if you want red or brown gravy.

Don’t eat the baby in the King Cake! (Photograph by Robert Giglio)

5. Don’t eat the baby!

King cakes are a Mardi Gras tradition. This braided, bread-like cake is topped with tri-color sugar in the Mardi Gras colors — purple, green and gold. King cakes are only enjoyed during Carnival season, which starts on January 6, King’s Day — named for the day the Magi visited Jesus — and ends the day before the Lenten season begins. A plastic king-cake baby, symbolizing the infant Jesus, is hidden in the cake. The person who gets the piece of cake with the baby traditionally has to buy the next king cake. So, if you’re cheap, avoid the baby and, most importantly, don’t swallow him.

Caroline Gerdes grew up in New Orleans and is one of National Geographic’s Young Explorer grantees. Follow her story on Twitter @CarolineCeleste.