The streets of Hollywood were lined with bundled, smiling people, bustling about, familiarizing themselves with the clever and infrequently attempted "walking in LA." A few youngsters hit the pavement, but for the most part the vehicle-deprived populace did well for themselves.
Peppered throughout the crowd were street vendors offering cotton candy, glow-in-the-dark toys and delicious smelling, though tragically non-vegetarian hot dogs, which brings me to my personal favorite part of the evening:
I had been sniffing longingly toward a hot dog vendors sizzling stand when out of nowhere four carts, still a-sizzle sped toward my local vendor who promptly sprung into action, and all five of them raced down an alley. Now, I have never bared witness to an impromptu hot dog vendor race; I was baffled and dazzled at once. Filled with delight, I looked around, hoping to catch another leg of the race in action. Instead, I saw two chortling police officers walking up the street, they paused to shine their flashlights threateningly down the alley, laugh to themselves again, then continue up the street. I was pleased to see the officers as delighted by the sport as I was, but also glad no one got in trouble, after all, where else would people get mid-parade snacks?
The air was full of excitement, right from the beginning, and that is the very best part of a parade. My Fantastic Boyfriend and I took the metro into Hollywood so we wouldn't have to deal with traffic. For those of you that don't know what the metro is, it's like The El or The Subway but without the people.
Being all bundled up and riding public transit took me right back to Chicago, swimming in lovely memories which My Fantastic Boyfriend indulged by looking politely less bored then usual by the stories he has heard many times.
After acquiring delicious, warm, chocolatey and, in my case, espresso filled beverages, we settled into a perfect viewing location near sunset on vine. We were just far enough away from the commentators that we could choose to decipher the muddled, distantly amplified words or not on a case by case basis. We had a completely clear view in front of us, and with some delicately choreographed head bobbing, could see what was to come as well.
The parade was wonderful! For the most part, it was an alternating pattern of high schools' band and color-guard teams, vaguely familiar celebrities and politicians riding in convertibles, and group sponsored giant balloons.
Poor poor color-guard girls. I thought this when I was in high school, heck I thought this when I was in junior high and it was the deciding factor that kept me from joining color guard: they are forced to where the most awful uniforms I've ever seen. Who is designing these? skin tight unitards? Really? Has anyone ever felt confident in a skin tight unitard, let alone the poor girls who are in high school, experiencing the most self-conscious period of their life! Occasionally we'd see a reasonable design. A flawy, well moving dress, for example that highlighted the girls as dancers over flag carriers, but the costume maker tripped at the finish-line by choosing brown, beige, and yellow to color the garment. This is my call to action! Come on color-guard uniform designers: Step It Up!
Among the convertible celebrities, I was delighted to see Corbin Bensen, the dad from Psych, and none other then Santa Paws, everyone's favorite furry, holiday friend.
The balloons were a good time. The scientology pirate balloon was the only thing that passed with silence from the crowd, but the rest of the balloons were sponsored by good causes. We were near a corner on the parade route, so it was extra exciting to watch the balloon handlers work to clear the buildings as they changed directions. Many a windblown, animated character balloon nearly met a grizzly end on it's way to sunset blvd.
The best part of the parade was a float of it's own category, the star of which was Dick Van Dyke! Everyone loves Dick Van Dyke! Everyone. He was smiling and waving and merry and everything you want Dick Van Dyke to be. All around his float, men dressed in outfits that echoed "Bert" wore in Mary Poppins, and dancing in Dick Van Dyke's classic style. It was wonderful.
By the time Santa went by, wishing us a Merry Christmas and asking us if we'd been good, our noses and toeses were ready for new poses, of the warmer variety, so we followed the parade down the street until we found a place to eat and warm up before heading home.
All in all, a wonderful holiday activity that I heartily recommend.
