The Hollywood Christmas parade has really upped its game this year. I don’t recall there ever being giant blown up things in the past. In my old section of Hollywood, I dreaded this day because it meant blocked off streets and lots of strangers lining the sidewalks with their screaming kids.The road blocks are still an issue at my new crib’s location but it’s a nice excuse to sit on my ass all night because “otherwise I’ll get trapped in parade traffic trying to get back.” I also seem to now be on an elite street where the parade participants are prepping and the fools wanting to watch a parade where no one throws candy from the floats are elsewhere.
I grew up in the birthplace of Mardi Gras in this country, Mobile, Alabama (it’s not New Orleans; they just commercialized it, look it up) and we loved going to the parades because we, like, got stuff: beads, candy, moonpies, plastic items, etc. There are parades almost every night for a month and my Dad always rode on a float in the parade on Fat Tuesday. I’d get all sorts of pissed off if he didn’t “dump me,” as we called it, with a box of candy when his float passed where I was standing. True to form, he usually just looked at me and exhaled his cigar. Memories.
