Where is The Parade? Post #12

Last night we went to yet, another parade. We had gone to Serdas, my favorite coffee shop, where the parade would pass by their door. It was mildly chilly, which is why we opted to buy coffee in exchange for a warm place to wait. It wasn't long ago, only two years, that my winters were spent in a suspended state of automation while I barely left the house, waiting out the cold temperatures and snow. Those were years of waiting and wondering if my parade would ever arrive.

          I thought back to my first Mardi Gras parade.  It was in the 50’s and somewhat windy. It was my first winter in the south so I kept telling myself, “You are NOT cold!” We showed up an hour early to claim our spot. I had heard about the traffic and parking and was determined to find a strategy – which I did eventually – to bypass all that. We stood waiting, noticing, for the first time, the sounds and smells that are only experienced during Mardi Gras, while we chatted happily, as most Mobilians do, with all of our new best friends that we just met there, as they shared with us their own perspectives on Mardi Gras.

         The parade was to start at 6:30. At 6:00 the first teaser came as police cruisers rode the route, lights on, sirens wailing. Shining, new tow trucks passed by carrying cars that were parked in the “No parking 2 hours before or 2 hours after a parade” zones. Then the proverbial dog showed up – McGruff, who rides in a police cruiser with the Youth Police Corps traveling behind. We discovered at a later parade that when this crew hits Bienville Square, McGruff gets out, along with all these teens in their police uniforms, and dance while the crowds go nuts!  

       6:45, 7:00, 7:15, 7:30, Still, no parade!! Coming from the north, where life is lived in fast forward, I could not fathom why they would say a parade starts at 6:30 and then make everyone wait. I was amazed that people did not get angry and go home. At 7:30, more people began arriving. “Good thing it’s starting late! They would have missed it! I thought! Still, in spite of the delay, the happiness of the crowd did not waver and nobody else seemed annoyed. After all, this is the south and they have learned the art of enjoying life as if on Quaalude. I have never seen people whose lives are so full of wonderful, cultural activities, yet they move in slow motion and don’t seem rushed or harried. It was nearly 8:00 p.m. when the parade finally arrived but it wasn’t until later that I figured out why that one, and every one since, are late.

          The reality is, the parades are not starting late. As a matter of fact, they start right on time. However, the route is soooo long that  The parade is not late, it is going on somewhere!   Two days prior to that day in the coffee shop,  my son and I were at another parade. The city was jam-packed and we were pretty early on in the route. When the it was over, we stayed put and waited for the crowds to die down for about 20 minutes, then went to our car and sat another 10 or 15 minutes waiting for the cars to clear. We decided to grab something to eat and drove to Bienville Square and parked. We walked a few blocks to Joe Cain’s Grill and ordered a pizza. It was crowded but there was a lot of excitement so we didn’t mind the long wait.

          Our food came after about 30 minutes and we ate it there. Afterward, we walked the three blocks to the car and headed home. When we got to Government Street, nearly one and a half hours after the parade had ended (or so we thought) we ran into the beginning of the parade, that was just hitting that spot. I knew the route was long, but had not realized, how long, until that day!

          I thought about my life before moving south. I had always known I didn’t belong in the north, though I have many loved ones there. It seemed that just as life would get going, winter would come and chase me back into the house for another 6 months and everything else was put on hold. When I worked outside the home, I remember huddling in my office with an electric heater, feeling the cold breezes from the windows and dreading the 1.5 mile drive home. I thought of the many nights laying awake and thinking about a warmer place where I would be better suited.

Never having been to Mobile, or even having a clue there was actually a city that did the things I thought I had created in my mind (balls, beautiful galas and events with excuses to dress up), it was only fate that brought me here. Or perhaps some cosmic matchmaker took my interests and personality and matched me to Mobile. So now, whenever I am waiting for a parade I think back to those years of waiting and wondering if I would ever be in a place that I could call home. I realize now, the parade was not late! The parade was going on somewhere! It had just not gotten to me yet! Or perhaps I hadn’t gotten to it!