As dawn broke over New Orleans on February 17, 2026, the city was already pulsing with energy. Revelers flocked to St. Charles Avenue, eager to catch a glimpse of the iconic Zulu and Rex parades, the grand finale of Mardi Gras. But behind the shimmering beads, floats, and music, another group was preparing for a very different kind of marathon: the cleanup crews who would restore order after the city’s biggest party.
According to NOLA.com, the day began early, with the Zulu parade rolling at 8 a.m., followed by Rex at 10:30 a.m. The festivities, livestreamed for all to see thanks to the NOLA.com Parade Cam and the Louisiana Office of Tourism, brought together locals and tourists alike. As Dr. Pepper—the official beverage of Mardi Gras for All Y’All—flowed freely and hosts Khiry Armstead and Quo Sylve kept spirits high, few paused to consider what would be left in the parade’s wake.
Yet, as the confetti settled and the crowds dispersed, hundreds of cleanup workers sprang into action. Their efforts, often overlooked, are essential to the city’s ability to bounce back from the chaos of Carnival. But as Verite News reported, these workers face grueling conditions and, all too often, inadequate support.
Cleanup shifts can stretch from 10 to a staggering 20 hours, with many workers arriving home well past midnight—just in time to rest briefly before heading out for another round. The city deploys between 200 to 500 cleanup workers each parade day, according to a statement from the Mayor’s Office. Some are employed by the Department of Sanitation, but most are hired on short-term contracts through the city’s Job1 platform or Ramelli Janitorial Services. Their tools are simple: rakes, shovels, roll carts, and debris blowers. But the task is anything but easy.
In 2026, the New Orleans Workers’ Center for Racial Justice launched the “We Are Not Disposable” campaign, aiming to draw attention to the plight of these workers and improve their working conditions. Volunteers set up stations along the parade route—at Harmony Circle, outside Fresh Market at Louisiana and St. Charles avenues, and at the start of the parade—to distribute food, water, and personal protective equipment (PPE) to the crews.
The need for such support is clear. Workers have reported that the PPE provided—safety glasses, face masks, rain ponchos, gloves, reflective gear, and goggles—is often insufficient for the demands of the job. “People are mostly raking, but from time to time they have to actually put their hands in a lot of this trash,” explained Magali Ortiz, a community organizer at the Workers’ Center, to Verite News. “The gloves are not waterproof, they’re not resistant to things like glass or other trash that might be in there.”
Jordan Bridges, the organizing director for the Workers’ Center, knows these challenges firsthand. After participating in cleanups in 2025 and 2026, he recounted, “For weeks after my cleanup shifts, I dealt with severe nasal congestion that turned into a sinus infection. My eyes were red for days, and dirt and other particulate matter I had breathed in during the cleanup kept coming out of my nose.” Even after wearing a mask during the 2026 parades, he continued to suffer from congestion for days.
While the Mayor’s Office insists that “clean-up workers are provided with water and snack pack (chips, cookies, fruit snacks, granola bar, Blow Pop) daily,” and that sandwiches are provided on parade mornings, many workers tell a different story. According to the Workers’ Center, sandwiches are often missing, water is limited, and workers are rarely informed that they can request extra PPE. The gear that is provided, they say, is too low-quality for the work at hand.
Ramelli Janitorial Services, a major contractor, disputes these claims. A company representative told Verite News that workers are “well-taken care of,” typically working only 4 to 5 hours after the parade ends and receiving gloves, reflective gear, and goggles as needed. But interviews with more than 40 workers, conducted by volunteers throughout Carnival season, suggest otherwise.
Breaks are another point of contention. The Mayor’s Office asserts that workers “take periodic breaks along the route as the water truck refills and in between clean-up segments.” But Bridges counters, “It’s not a break. Anybody that’s ever been on-call knows that if I’m on-call I’m basically working. We have to move away from devaluing people’s time.” Often, these so-called breaks simply mean standing around waiting for the next task, with little opportunity to rest or even find a bathroom.
The lack of first aid is another glaring issue. While workers are required to provide an emergency contact before their shift, the Red Cross tent—present during the parade for revelers—packs up and leaves as soon as the festivities end. This leaves cleanup crews without immediate support should an injury occur. The Red Cross did not respond to requests for comment from Verite News.
Assignment to cleanup routes is random, and the experience varies widely. Some workers, if assigned to Route B or C, can watch the parade before beginning their cleanup. Those on Route A must follow directly behind the debris blowers, missing out on any of the day’s festivities. The work is physically taxing, and for those on double shifts—10 hours two days in a row—exhaustion is a constant companion. “Workers I’ve seen sleep in cars, I’ve seen just wander for a few hours. I’ve seen people sleep on the sidewalk next to Fresh Market, exhausted from either the previous shifts they’ve done or just trying to catch a nap,” Bridges observed.
Economic and racial disparities are starkly visible in these cleanup efforts. Many workers are Black and tasked with cleaning up high-income Uptown neighborhoods. Bridges recounted seeing wealthy college students laughing and recording workers as they toiled. “I’ve watched people bring trash out of their houses and throw it right on the ground when they see us coming,” he said. “People throw pizza—take a bite of it, don’t want it no more, and just throw it into the trash pile.”
City-funded cleanups began on February 6, 2026, after the Krewe of Cleopatra parade. Larger krewes receive free cleanup services, while smaller ones must pay for their own. Some parades, like NOMTOC on the West Bank, don’t receive city-funded cleanup at all. As a result, trash can linger in those neighborhoods for days. “It just brings in a bit of a question of who deserves to have their neighborhood cleaned up, and why are we doing that cleanup?” Ortiz said. “And when is that being done for tourists, as opposed to the people who are actually living in the neighborhoods that are being impacted?”
Despite these challenges, organizers like Bridges remain hopeful that with greater city cooperation, working conditions and pay for cleanup crews can improve. “At the end of the day, are the workers that are doing the Mardi Gras clean-up and staying up and sacrificing their bodies and time and lungs and health and don’t get to enjoy Carnival—are they being taken care of?” he asked. “The answer is, we can do a lot better.”
As the city reflects on another successful Mardi Gras, the spotlight now turns to those who labor in its aftermath—unsung heroes whose work ensures that New Orleans can celebrate again, year after year.