(Disclaimer: This post is a *little* belated. My apologies for being such a slacker.)
I love a Parade
Actually, I don’t. But my sister (aka Auntie) and most of Salt Lake County do!
The Days of ’47 are a huge deal here. The parade, the rodeo, the fireworks…. All the hoopla required to reinforce the fact that indeed “This is the Place!” http://www.daysof47.com/
But really, the crowning glory of it all is the Parade. Parade watchers start laying a claim to their piece of asphalt hours and hours before the event. The Parade is televised, but apparently it just doesn't pack the same punch as viewing it live from a lawn chair on the baking blacktop with a bazillion other bleary-eyed parents and their cotton-candy-fueled offspring.
In years past, it has been a gathering of families. An opportunity to haul your tents and your coolers and your Uno games to the curb and have an all-nighter with other families who may or may not share your heritage. Your one common thread with these people was the love of the Parade. It was a grand time to be had by all. http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=148&sid=3842263
Flash forward to 2008….
Auntie wanted to create a memory for two of her daughters, and mine as well, by taking to the streets of SLC and pulling an all-nighter to get their primo Parade-watching spot. And BOY-OH-BOY did they get some memories….
They arrived a little later than planned and as a result, had to set up camp in one of the "less desirable" areas of the city. (If Brother Brigham had seen this choice real estate first, the Land of Zion would probably be somewhere in Idaho.) However, Auntie was somewhat reassured by the heavy police presence and decided to settle in anyway. They spent a few eventless hours until my youngest niece fell asleep inside their little tent on the sidewalk. Auntie and the girls settled in to await the start of the Parade. And then, 18 hours early, the fireworks started! But not the type of fireworks they were expecting.
It began with a few restless "homegirls" trolling back and forth in front of the gathered crowds. Then came the battle cry "That's the b*tch!" and all hell breaks loose. Forty some-odd gang-bangers converged at once and commenced to beat the holy living hell out of each other in front of my horrified daughters and teenage niece. Men pounding on men, women slapping women, even one man with his hands around a woman's neck. (I use the words "men" and "women" loosely... I think animals is a more accurate term.) Auntie had the presence of mind to scoop her sleeping daughter out of the tent before two thugs came crashing on the top of it. The hoodlums then proceeded to pick up OUR lawn chairs and beat each other to a fecking pulp with their new weapons. FINALLY, the Five-0 arrived, kicked some ass and took some names and things calmed down.
Auntie then threw all her gear inside the tent, dragged it two blocks up the street, plunked down and promptly had a heart attack.
Moral of the story... why risk life and limb when you can live vicariously through your television set.
(Disclaimer 2: No Aunties were harmed in the making of this post.)
