teenyworld
One less thing to do before I kick . . .
posted Thursday, 1 January 2009
Happy New Year, kids!
So, you’ve been at the edge of your collective seats for some word of my experience at the Rose Parade, right? Clicking the ‘refresh’ button on your browser every five minutes, waiting for the latest update? You poor, poor people. Maybe it’s time for me to actually give some real thought to that pay-to-view site . . .
Our Rose Parade experience nearly didn’t occur at all due to my misfortune of oversleeping on New Year’s morning. Following a little too much tippling the night before, I made the mistake of setting the alarm for 4:00 p.m. instead of 4:00 a.m.
Now, I’ll admit that a 4:00 a.m. wake-up on New Year’s day might seem a bit extreme. Not knowing what sort of traffic we would encounter on the freeways to Pasadena, I elected to get an early start rather than forfeit the $292 I’d forked out for seats, parking, and an official Rose Parade program. Tough economic times call for a little sacrifice, so sleep didn’t really seem like that big of a deal at the time.
Thankfully, the wife had the presence to give me an elbow at 4:30 a.m. and tell me that I was an idiot for not setting the alarm. What followed was a feverish rush to rub the sleep from our eyes, run a comb through the hair, and pile into the family truckster for the thirty mile trip to Pasadena.
The roads to Pasadena were clear and we were able to cook along at nearly 70 before hitting apocalyptic traffic just three blocks from the area where we were to park. After another half hour of finding myself in the wrong lane to make the needed turn, we were finally able to settle into our pre-purchased parking space and prepare ourselves for the gala that we had traveled 700 miles to see.
It took us an additional hour or so to navigate our way through the crowds to find our seats on the fortieth row of Section 414 in the television viewing area. We then settled in for a two hour wait on cold, hard, and unforgiving bleacher seats that had been trucked in for the event. And as uncomfortable as it might have seemed, it was still sorta magical to be sitting among a half-million others as the sun broke over the lower San Gabriel mountains.
Our seats placed us directly under the commentator booth containing Bob Eubanks. Bob was somewhat aloof in my opinion, as he ignored every opportunity to lean over the railing and say hello to us, but I guess such should be expected from a big-time game show host. Regardless, I waved like a madman each time the camera panned the audience, hoping that it might be the fateful break that I’ve been needing to rocket me out of my obscurity.
And now for the obligatory photos of the floats.
All in all, it was a very nice time, the only exception being that we were seated directly in front of a woman who was one of those that seemed to know everything about . . . well, everything.
It was initially quite entertaining when she spoke to the group surrounding her and declared that country singer Conway Twitty was performing on the passing Hee Haw float. This would be a pretty neat thing to pull off, since Conway Twitty had been dead for over fifteen years and never really looked anything like Marty Stuart (who was very much alive and riding on the float).
Next came her exclamation, “Oh, it’s Brian Wilson! He was one of the Beach Boys!” It was, in fact, the mayor of Huntington Beach; not one of the Beach Boys.
The final insult was when she misidentified the United States Marine Corps Band as being the band of the Salvation Army. It proved pointless to try and correct her, so we simply grinned along as if we were tourists just in from Oklahoma.
And that, kids, is it. My Rose Parade experience. All $292 worth. Kinda anticlimactic, huh?
I’m sure I could do better if somebody were to sign up for the pay-to-view site . . .
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