The Rose Parade
Jan. 1, 2013
< < previous
| next > >
Here at the tail end of the Rose Parade's 5-mile journey,
where wrecker trucks tow disabled floats worn out from
their short journey, and where high school marching bands
stagger towards the deliverance of a phalanx of porta-potties
and a free In-n-Out Burger, we had come with the Jeffries to
Our carefully prepared and packed cooler with champagne and
orange juice, cinnamon rolls, fresh fruit, cheese and cold cuts,
sat lonely on the kitchen floor in Long Beach -- left behind
in the morning's rush to get out the door.
But I was less concerned about that than I was about my
visceral response to seeing the old green uniforms of the
Altadena sheriffs patrolling the route. How many times had
I seen those uniforms coming my way-- and never portending anything
good. "Like Santa meeting up with the Central Park Rangers,"
I joked with the daughters, and then regaled them with mildly exaggerated tales
of wild shenanigans across many Altadena nights: a red Fiat 128
careening at the edge of control around sharp dark corners while
flashing lights give chase. It's a wonder I
escaped military duty or jail.