The Parade

Please PLEASE don't let anyone know who I am or were I work...

We've all heard horror stories about the appearances we as jocks have to make, but I think I have the ultimate. I was just starting out in a station near my hometown, where I graduated from high school, and had lived most of my life, so of course I knew everyone. In that area of the country, there is some kind of festival almost every weekend, with the accompanying parades and street fairs, and of course, we were there. At all of them. So I wound up pulling duty for the parade through the streets of my hometown, where my family (still) lives, driving the station vehicle affectionately called the Anti-Christ. This vehicle, to begin with, was about 20 years old, was on it's 3rd engine, and looked like a converted ambulance.

The day of the parade, I get to the station to begin the preparations. I ask the PD if we have any throws (candy, or t-shirts or something), so he proceeds to rummage through the prize closet. Lo and behold, he comes up with 2 frisbees (with our old logo) and a shopping bag full of Chap-stick that must have been 5 years old. He says, "Here." and hands me this crap. I asked him, "What, is this all?" He replies, "Yep."

So here I am, sitting at the kick-off point for this decent sized parade (in one of our hottest zips) in my own home town, thinking to myself, "Can't get much worse..." when the engine starts to miss. I had plenty of gas, the truck just needed it's 4th engine. At that moment, as if on cue, the parade starts.   So here I am, rolling down the street, backfiring, throwing old chap-stick, and having to restart the vehicle every 2 blocks.   Needless to say, I survived, and surprisingly, my career did too. Amazing how you can love and hate something so much at the same time.... Thanks for letting me vent.