The Rose Parade
I have a long-standing tradition of sleeping through the annual festivities that take place a block from my house. Six years now, to be exact. Every year I make a thorough consideration as to whether I should wake up and walk up the street, and every year I decide that if I happen to awake on my own I'll go. No alarm is ever set on days when I don't have to get up. And then, come New Year's day, I always wake up mid-parade. It's rather a loud celebration, and I'm just not deep enough of a sleeper to make it to the end. I stir around 9, but invariably sit up in my bed around 10:30 to the racket of drumming and trumpets and screaming crowds who've made their way from Middle America down to my neck of the woods for this big day.
I know where they're from, because I've had a few days to visit with them. They start showing up way in advance in campers and other portable housing and they park on my street and the streets around, and in the gas stations, and in the vacant parking lots at the college, and in every nook and cranny that will fit them. In the lead-up to the parade, all of Pasadena slowly undergoes a transformation into a camping ground for thickly accented football fans from every part of the country, especially the part whose team is playing in the Rose Bowl.
I don't really pay much attention to the football aspect of the holiday, though. Usually, I take in the parade route in large strides the night before, walking 2 miles or so between my house and the end, then back, trying to time it so that when Midnight strikes I'll be in the company of friends somewhere along the route. I've messed this up a couple times, but the countdown on the boulevard is celebration enough for me most years.
People will be burning fires to keep warm. They'll be playing board games and fighting with their families. They'll be singing Karaoke in the cold. They'll be throwing garbage at passing cars. And they'll be covering everything with silly string, especially each other. Somebody will do something really stupid, if tradition upholds, and the cops are there well in advance just waiting. In the meantime, they keep people out of the street as best as they can, but the cars always end up going slow.
As I write this now (it's the 29th), there are 11 port-a-potties on my block and already many businesses along Colorado Blvd. have taped off an area to reserve it for their employees. It's the least they deserve, since a few of them will lose their shop windows to one of the out-of-towner's bee bee guns.
Starting early in the morning on the 31st, the competition for spots on the street will begin. People will camp out on the sidewalk and all around the grass to reserve themselves and their friends a good spot for watching the event that I will most likely not wake up for.
It's not that I don't care, it's just that I don't care very much. It's not my kind of music, for one, and it's certainly not my favorite hour of the day. My energy peaks around 9pm, then again around 1am. If I fall asleep at that hour, I can wake up comfortably and enjoy the floats and the occasional piece of brilliant video game music mixed in with the lot of junk. But it's all anti-climactic if I'd rather be sleeping which, generally, I would.
You know that Elliot Smith song, Rose Parade? (Lyrics here, live video.) It really captures the feeling I have every year around this time. And it's oodles better than the Christian Rock band which always plays on my corner in the Carl's Jr. parking lot the night before.
Carl's, for whatever reason, has been doing remarkably auspicious business leading up to the festivities. Especially considering that the main entrance of their parking lot has been filled with bleacher seating, stacked 30 feet high. I went by on Christmas, and was surprised and disheartened to see it filled to the brim with evening diners. I mean, on Christmas, how does that happen?
It's remarkable, too, just how much preparation Pasadena undergoes for this thing that I sleep through. Those bleachers that go up in the Carl's parking lot go up throughout most of the town, and they start on December 1st, maybe sooner. They even paint the things fresh each year. And they fence off most of the businesses (except entryways) along the parade route to diminish the vandalism. They start selling the seats well before they put them up! It's a long process, throughout which the local police start to become a lot more prominent. When the parade finally comes, they'll be prepared with their massive stocks of riot gear. And I will probably be asleep.
Most years, I hop in the shower and stumble down the street just in time to catch the last 20 minutes of the parade. On a couple other years, I've not even done that, and instead woke up mid-day and complained about the mess in the streets. They'll clean it up by the second of January, but the side streets (such as the one I live on) will not be properly cleaned for another two weeks.
And, so, what's all this coming to? Am I writing to tell you that I'm better than the parade and fuck the Midwesterners and football sucks anyway and they can all go to hell and why can't they keep it down while I'm trying to catch a couple Z's?
Naah. Not this time. If you're reading this, it's because this year I decided to wake up. I decided the parade would not only be fun, but would be enough fun to be worth getting out of bed for. And I took my camera with me to capture some highlights.
(Clicking on an image will open it in full size.)
The coolest float by far. It actually bounced while spitting fire and playing Welcome To The Machine by Pink Floyd.
This is by far the second coolest float. If
only because it was a gigantic Indian.
3rd best.
The City of Alhambra would like to wish you A
Happy Chinese New Year. Only 37 days too soon.
As a jew and a human being, this frightens
me.
Sweet Ride.
Cool Circus Float:
Miscellany:
A few additional notes from this year. The night before, for the first time ever, I saw no Karaoke and, somehow, I'm slightly disappointed. The police came out stronger than ever, actually passing by throughout the night with the doors to their police vans wide open to show people they meant business. The vans were filled with an equal number of adults and children--handcuffed children. And the 11 port-a-potties on my block turned out to be massively insufficient this morning, with 2 lines forming up to them, each 40-strong.
It's been a long time since I've written, the longest gap since I started this site. Since I last wrote here, I quit my job, enrolled in college full-time, took a trip back East, and decided I'm going to take 2 more trips. The first one will be up North to visit a couple of old friends, and the second to Israel via this program.
So, change has left me with less desire to write here. But, then, who cares? I'm going to sleep.
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