Scenes from the Dumaine Street Gang Second Line and the Saints Second Line in ATL



No second line parade this weekend since the whole brass band and SA&PC scene went to Atlanta to bump and grind salt into those whoop wounds the Saints put on the home team (see below). However I do have some clips from last week’s parade, the Dumaine Street Gang rolling through the Treme. I'm sure I sound bias when I say the downtown parades are the best, but they do perform more fancy footwork downtown - this is a widely accepted fact. Also the Treme parade route is great cause it always stays within walking distance of your parked car which is essential for girls on a manhunt trying to navigate New Orleans pothole streets in their stilettos and for adventurous White people that want that little extra sense of security (you know who you are). Speaking of danger, that guy threatening me at the 2:30 mark went on to verbally harass me some more, assault me with his fan and knock my upswept hairdo apart which for a sista is grounds for full mortal combat! In the end, turns out it was just his charming way of trying to holla. So funny how he took one look at me and instinctively knew how I like it. Next stop: Wedding bells!! But first I need to get a commitment from him that he won’t be showing up to the church or any of the clubs on St. Bernard in that green grass suit. I don’t think I could take seeing that on a random outing.

This second clip is dedicated to my grandmother ‘Nana’. Nana was one of those old fashioned Black ladies that believed standing in the street meant you were low-class. She was good for hollering out of the window “Get out the street!” to me and my cousins. I think about those good old days now when I’m shaking my behind at a second line, knowing my disobedience is causing Nana’s blood pressure to soar over yonder on the other side. And I KNOW she’s casting a side eye at my new friend ‘Sweet Feet’ from the Single Ladies Social Aid and Pleasure Club, the one in the purple sweatshirt and pink headscarf. She’s the kinda fast girl Nana always warned me not to hang with, the kind that knew all the hot dance moves and we’d ditch class together, smoke Benson and Hedges menthol lights, listen to the Isley Brothers and practice our cursing and ass-whooping threats. Ahhh... memories. Then there’s the sister at the 1:14 minute mark with her purse, heels and ladylike wrap pushing up on that brother. I know we’re thinking the same thing at the same time: ‘Well, if that’s not class and elegance, I don’t know what is...’ JINX!!

So Nana my angel, you’re still my boo and I admit you were right about most things. But your warnings about standing in the street - just like your warnings about premarital sex - were flat out wrong. Standing in the street feels good! And dancing in ‘em - that's mo better. So just rest your nerves. I promise I’m keeping it classy. I’m second lining, having fun and I’m not pregnant. So there.

Oh and here’s how New Orleans showed up in ATL following up behind them Saints. Can you imagine someone coming to your house, putting a whooping on you, then going outside and throwing a big party with a band and thousands of folks dancing??? You know that had to hurt those people's feelings!

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