By Norma Meyer
With shouts of "Viva Fiesta!" strangers crack confetti-filled chicken eggs over my head, glittery parade floats actually float down a river, Chihuahuas trot by dressed as mariachis and "The Ugly King" helps reign over it all. I'm at the colorfully quirky San Antonio Fiesta, an 11-day Texas-size shindig dating back to 1891 and held every April.
San Antonio is best known for its top tourist draw, the fabled Alamo, where in 1836 some 200 outnumbered Texas rebels, including William Travis, Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett, died fighting Mexican troops for independence. The multicultural Fiesta started in honor of those heroes and the Battle of San Jacinto that won Texans autonomy from Mexico.
Before being beaned by iconic cascarones (confetti eggs), I take an engrossing guided tour of the bullet-pocked mission-turned-fort Alamo. It is chilling to stand where Crockett fought and then eyeball both his "Old Betsy" rifle and a lock of his hair. Afterward, I remember the Alamo by joining countless revelers draped in tons of souvenir medals while catching the Fiesta's Flambeau Parade (dubbed "America's largest illuminated parade"), River Parade ("one of a kind"), Battle of the Flowers ("second in size only to the Tournament of Roses Parade"), Hat Contest (3-feet-tall creations of beer bottles, Swarovski crystals, Mexican marionettes and more), Pooch Parade (a bulldog in his mini taco truck, for example) or 100 other family-friendly events.
This is my first trip to the Lone Star State, and I find San Antonians are darn nice — even the "nobility." For 11 days, as their subjects scarf Frito pies and steer-on-a-stick, the city is ruled by two hobnobbing kings, the court of "king's men," seven crown-garnished queens (including the African-American Queen of Soul), a pedigree princess, and 24 duchesses. (Way back, there was a King Selamat, which is tamales spelled backward.) The major players in the whole to-do are the 1926-founded Texas Cavaliers, a philanthropic group of prominent men who wear military-style uniforms of sky-blue blazers and red pants and select the Fiesta's King Antonio from their elite ranks. The other monarch is El Rey Feo, which in Spanish means "The Ugly King." He is the commoners' choice.
My job is to spread merriment," says King Antonio XCIV, who has just visited a nursing home. His real name is R. Huntington Winton III, and he owns sleep clinics.
I run into His Highness at the luxe St. Anthony Hotel, a marbled, chandeliered 1909 landmark that has hosted a slew of VIPs, including Presidents Dwight Eisenhower and Lyndon Johnson, as well as Gary Cooper, Babe Ruth, Judy Garland and John Wayne (the latter during the 1960 world movie premiere of "The Alamo").
The Cavaliers call the grand hotel their "castle." Others call it "haunted." Ghosts lurk. Which is why the chic downstairs cocktail lounge is christened Haunt and the spirits are named after spirits. The Lavender Lady, made with lavender-infused gin, boozily recalls the mysterious woman who would be seen going into a hotel room but then disappearing into thin air, leaving only the whiff of her lavender perfume.
Between nonstop Fiesta fun — jazz bands, unveiling of the country's largest pinata, the spoof Cornyation with King Anchovy — you can stroll the San Antonio River Walk, a waterfront meandering path of cafes and shops. And go see "San Antonio — The Saga," an ultra-cool 24-minute video-light-music show tracing the city's history and projected on the facade of San Fernando Cathedral, Texas' oldest church and the place where Jim Bowie got married in 1831.
The Fiesta draws 3.5 million attendees, raises big bucks for charity and boasts a bevy of unique traditions. Parade-watchers at the Battle of the Flowers customarily yell out, "Show us your shoes!" to the female royalty, who oblige by lifting up bejeweled gowns to reveal cowboy boots or flip-flops. And everywhere ordinary folks are weighted down in as many as 300 jangling medals stuck to knee-length sashes and vests.
"We're crazy for medals," explains Rose Moran, a volunteer with the San Antonio Conservation Society and herself glinting in 10 pounds of badges. "New Orleans at Mardi Gras has beads and San Antonio has its medals."
I try wearing her hefty sash and almost topple over.
Each year dozens of new must-have medals are crafted by companies, non-profits and individuals; I spot ones featuring David Bowie, Whataburger and Lucy's Doggy Day Care. A blood and tissue bank festooned their pins with tiny latex gloves and vials of fake blood. Medal maniacs buy, sell and trade throughout Fiesta.
One morning Rose invites me to glimpse Fiesta behind the scenes in a back annex of Edward Steves Homestead, an 1876-built Victorian mansion-turned-museum. It's here where volunteer "Flower Fluffers" hand-produce nearly 15,000 vivid crepe-paper blooms that embellish the city. Sitting nearby are the "Cascarones Egg Ladies" (ranging in age from 20 to 93) who yearlong drain yolks, color-dye, delicately draw on and stuff with confetti tens of thousands of cascarones that are showered over heads for good luck.
That night, at Fiesta's rocking block party, I am admiring two festival-goers costumed as feathered flamingos — with webbed feet and hot-pink craned necks and beaks coming out of their noggins — when a giddy older woman cracks a cascaron in her hand and rubs confetti over my hair, which, incidentally, is topped by a ribboned hat sprouting a salt-rimmed margarita glass.
Later, when I return to my classy room at the St. Anthony, I know what "Flower Fluffer" and cascarones-maker Chris Crawford meant by her earlier comment: "During Fiesta we say when you get undressed at night if you don't have confetti in strange places, you haven't had a good time."
Obviously I had a blast.
WHEN YOU GO
This year's Fiesta runs from April 20 through 30. Find a calendar of events and other kookiness at www.fiesta-sa.org.
Information about the River Walk, "San Antonio —The Saga" and other attractions is available at www.visitsanantonio.com.
Remember the Alamo! Details about visiting the famous battlefield are at www.thealamo.org.
Sleep in a history-rich national landmark (possibly with a ghost) at the St. Anthony Hotel, www.thestanthonyhotel.com.
Norma Meyer is a freelance writer. To read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.
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