I’m a New Orleanian. Not by birth or heritage, but an adopted one. I went to college in Uptown and raised my kids in River Ridge. I rode proudly with the Krewe of Thoth. And today, January 6th, is Twelfth Night – the official start of Mardi Gras season. So that’s our theme for today’s post.

In the world of golf, there are some courses you play for the scenery, and some you play just to see if you can survive the layout. Mardi Gras is the ultimate survival course. If life is a round of eighteen, Bourbon Street in February is a narrow fairway lined with deep water, jagged rocks, and a gallery of a million people screaming for you to take the “hero shot”—which, in this case, usually comes in a red plastic cup.

For a guy like me, Mardi Gras used to be my “Major.” It was the one time of year where my disease didn’t just feel normal; it felt like a requirement. I wasn’t the outlier; I was the MVP. But now, standing on the outside of the bottle, looking in at the chaos of the Big Easy, I realize that navigating Carnival season sober is the hardest “save” I’ve ever had to make.

Walking the Narrow Fairway

There’s a specific energy to New Orleans during Mardi Gras. It’s loud, it’s vibrant, and it’s unhinged. To the “normies,” it’s a party. To an alcoholic, it’s a sensory minefield.

Every block is a reminder of the “Old Self” we talked about. The smell of stale beer on the pavement, the sight of a stranger stumbling into a wall—it all triggers that lizard brain that says, “You remember this. You belong here. Just one won’t hurt.”

But that’s the “bad math” of the disease talking.

In golf, when you’re facing a treacherous hazard, you don’t look at the water. You look at the target. You focus on the one small patch of grass where you want the ball to land. Being sober at Mardi Gras is about target focus. My target isn’t the party; it’s the morning. It’s the feeling of waking up in a quiet room with a clear head, knowing I didn’t trade my soul for a handful of plastic beads.

The Memento Mori in the Masquerade

At Skull & Bogeys, our gear features the skull as a memento mori—a reminder that life is short and reality is final.

Nothing highlights the “finality” of life quite like a crowd of people wearing masks, trying desperately to escape themselves for a few days. Don’t get me wrong; I love the culture and the history. But there’s a thin line between “celebration” and “oblivion.”

When you’re sober, you see the “oblivion” for what it is. You see the exhaustion behind the masks. You see the “gallery” trying to drown out their bogeys with spirits. The skull on my hat reminds me that I don’t have enough time left to spend any of it in a blackout. I want to see the parades. I want to hear the brass bands and see the drum majors. I want to taste the king cake. I want to be present for the life I fought so hard to get back.

Taking the “Drop”

Sometimes, the best way to play a hazard is to avoid it entirely.

People ask me, “How do you do Mardi Gras sober?” The answer is often: I don’t. Or at least, I don’t do it the way I used to. I take the “drop.” I avoid the streets where the “red stakes” are highest. I find the family-friendly parades. I hang out with the people who value my presence more than my “party-animal” persona. Kudos to the guys at Athletic Brewing who hooked me up with some NA suds for my ride last year.

In recovery, as in golf, there’s no prize for being the guy who played the most dangerous lie. The prize is the scorecard at the end of the day.

The 19th Hole (Lundi Gras Edition)

If you’re in the middle of a “hazard” right now—whether it’s a holiday, a festival, or just a high-pressure week—remember the Bogey.

It’s okay if you feel awkward. It’s okay if you feel like the “odd man out” in the foursome. A “sober bogey” is infinitely better than a “drunk eagle” that you can’t remember hitting.

Mardi Gras is a beautiful, chaotic mess. But I’ve learned that the view is much better when your eyes are open and your feet are on solid ground. I’ll see you on the other side of the Ash Wednesday finish line—with my dignity intact and my head on straight.

Laissez les bons temps rouler. Just keep the ball in the fairway.

Stay clear. Stay gritty. Shop the Mardi Gras-themed “Krewe Collection” at skullandbogeys.com.