So, the derby parade. Yeah, I went. Wasn’t exactly my idea of a wild Saturday, but the kids were nagging, and the wife gave me that look. You know the one. So, off we went, into the belly of the beast, or so it felt.
Getting downtown was the first mission. Seemed like every single person in a fifty-mile radius had the same bright idea. Cars everywhere, people jaywalking like it was an Olympic sport. Found parking about a mile away, naturally. Good exercise, I told myself, trying not to sound too grumpy already.
We finally found a spot on the curb, packed in like sardines. I swear, I was closer to the bloke next to me than I’ve been to some relatives. And then the waiting began. Kids started asking “is it here yet?” every two minutes. Classic.
Then, the noise started. You could hear the drums and the trumpets before you saw anything. First came the police bikes, all shiny and loud. Then the local bigwigs in fancy cars, waving like they’d just won the lottery. Standard stuff. Some floats were pretty decent, lots of glitter and folks throwing candy. The kids went nuts for that, obviously. Scrambling around on the ground, a proper sugar-fueled frenzy.
But you know what really stuck with me? There was this one group, just a bunch of older folks, maybe from a local club or something. They weren’t in fancy costumes, just their normal clothes, carrying a simple banner. And they were all just so genuinely happy. One old lady, she must have been eighty if she was a day, was clapping along, this huge smile on her face. It kinda hit me, you know? It wasn’t about the flashy stuff for them. It was just… being there. Together.
Made me think about my own old man. He used to drag me to these things when I was a kid. I’d moan and groan, just like my kids do now. But he loved it. Said it was about seeing the community out, people smiling. Never really got it back then. Too busy being a teenager, I suppose. Funny how things change, or maybe how you start to see things a bit different when you get older.
Course, it wasn’t all sunshine and smiles. Some kid behind us spilled a whole sticky soda down my back. And the band from the high school… let’s just say they had a lot of enthusiasm. Lots of it. But hey, it’s a parade, right? It’s supposed to be a bit chaotic, a bit messy. That’s part of the charm, or so they say.
By the end, we were tired, sticky, and loaded up with cheap candy. Was it the greatest day of my life? Not by a long shot. But, was it a disaster? Nah. It was just… the derby parade. We did it. Saw some things. Maybe the kids will remember it, maybe they’ll just remember the sugar. Either way, we were out, doing something. And I got to thinking about my dad, which wasn’t so bad. Probably do it all again next year, if I’m being honest. Don’t tell the wife I said that though.
