On January 6, the PPP will usher in Mardi Gras with snark and circumstance
When the King Cake Hub reopens, when you pull your costume box out from under the bed, and when the motley krewe known as the Phunny Phorty Phellows takes their famous Twelfth Night ride in a purple, green, and gold-bedecked streetcar, Carnival season has officially begun.
"We're considered the heralds of Carnival, and we're announcing to one and all that it's Carnival time," says the Phunny Phorty Phellows' captain, Peggy Scott Laborde. "And for those who are very religious about not eating king cake before it's time, we're also announcing that it's now that time."
It's PPP protocol that all streetcar riders must be costumed and masked. Costumes range from the beautiful and phancy to the phunny or downright silly. And where there's humor, it's often a "satirical phlair" on a hot-button topic of the day, Laborde explains.
Barring any major construction, the krewe rides the entire St. Charles Avenue streetcar route, known by locals as "the Belt," from the Willow Street streetcar barn all the way to Canal Street and back.
And while they ride, the Phellows dance to the jazz of the Storyville Stompers, toast their admirers at stops along St. Charles Avenue, and eat king cake. In fact, the krewe uses the old-fashioned king-cake method to select their royalty for the following year. PPP nobility consists of a queen, along with a "boss," where a king would normally be. The two members who find a baby in their slice of king cake are crowned during the ride and celebrated in a coronation ceremony immediately afterwards.
What's So Phunny?
The Phunny Phorty Phellows date back to 1878. For 20 years, they paraded right behind Rex, poking fun of the phollies of life, until they eventually went their separate ways in 1898. After nearly a century-long hiatus, the krewe picked up where they left off, reuniting in 1981.
They jumped back on the parading bandwagon, marching with mockery as a witty precursor to Krewe du Vieux—until they determined that the streetcar was a much better bandwagon to ride.
These days, the Phunny Phorty Phellows name is a misnomer. They're not just phellows anymore—both ladies and men ride now. And they are many more than phorty—there are as many as 70 members, yet not all of them can comfortably squeeze onto the streetcar at once.
Technically, maximum capacity on the streetcar is 75, according to the RTA. But cramming that many costumed revelers into a single streetcar makes for a clown-car situation. And clowns, when cramped, simply stop being phunny.
If cuts must be made, the spots on the streetcar usually go to those with the most seniority or the most intense yearning to ride.
"We try to be phair," says Laborde.
Over the years, the PPP have built up quite a phan phollowing, and people come out to see them off at the car barn and gather along the streetcar route. The krewe even has something of a gang of groupies, known as the Mystery Maskers, who faithfully show up year after year toting cleverly satirical signs.
During the ride, the Phunny Phorty Phellows pass out little phavors for their circle of phans—things such as fridge magnets, aluminum bracelets, plush owls (this bird is their official symbol), and conventional beads.
For the sake of safety, PPP rules require that any goodies must be carefully handed off directly to bystanders, rather than thrown.
"We're not a parade," says Laborde. "We're on a streetcar, not a float."
But while they might miss out on the phun of flinging throws, they make up for it with "lots of eye contact and cherished smiles from our repeat revelers," says two-time PPP queen Julie Holman.
And why the streetcar?
Because it's as historic as the Phunny Phorty Phellows themselves. Because it's a unique place to party. Because "it's better than a horse and carriage," says Holman.
To be more precise, the idea for a streetcar shindig came about many years ago when Laborde and her husband Errol were invited to a birthday party on a streetcar. After learning that it was possible to rent a streetcar for private events, they were inspired to make that the PPP's new thing. And they decided that it should be done on Twelfth Night.
Yet even though it's Carnival, and they're in full party mode, no phunny business is allowed on the streetcar.
"We're really appreciative of the RTA and the fact that we can do this," says Laborde. "We know that we are a guest in their streetcar, and we're having fun, but our members have to behave."
Adhering to RTA regulations means that no one is allowed to get off the streetcar during the entire ride, explains Holman. And as any streetcar commuter knows, there are no bathroom facilities onboard. "So we have to be very mindful of our bladders," she says, "even as we sip our beverages of choice."
The Phunny Phorty Phellows have been called the "dessert of Carnival"—presumably because their humor and satire provide a little lagniappe, a decadent indulgence, the icing on the king cake.
But seeing as they kick off the season, they really seem to be more of a tasty hors d'oeuvre, a Carnival canapé. They're an amuse-bouche, amusing us with their clever phrivolity and whetting our appetite for the festivities to come.
"We're small but mighty," says Laborde. "We do what we can."
