My friend J and I decided to brave the insanely sunny day and unseasonally warm Cleveland temperatures by heading downtown to attend the ever-popular St. Patrick's Day parade. It was my brilliant idea to take the Rapid train downtown since I figured that would be a lot less hassle than trying to find a parking spot in downtown Cleveland. Just as I was patting myself on the back for being such a rock star, we pull into the station and shitty shamrocks! All we see is a sea...of green. Now mind you, this train station is one of many on the west side of Cleveland, so if there were this many people at this station, that meant there were at least this many people at the other stations. Nonetheless, we hoofed the mile through the parking lot after scoring one of the last available spaces.
Passing into the station I noticed an "amnesty barrel" with a sign that read, "No alcoholic beverages beyond this point." I think I was the only person that saw this barrel, because everybody around us had at least one beer, if not a keg, with them. When we finally managed to squeeze onto a train, I was soon wishing we had tempted fate and drove instead. We were armpit to armpit (felt sorry for my friend who is much shorter than I, so she was nose to armpit) with inebriated strangers, and not that that couldn't be a fun time, however, these strangers apparently hadn't bathed yet this week. Either that, or they had started celebrating last night and had pissed, shit and puked on themselves and hadn't bothered to go home for a fresh "If found, return to the nearest pub" T-shirt. Not to mention, we were the oldest people on the train (probably by double) and wasted teenagers are annoying. I wanted to shout at them, "I know your mothers" but I realized we were outnumbered in a very clausterphobic space and the last thing we needed was a revolt by drunken delinquents. The girl next to us (maybe 18), had to pee really bad and kept announcing it every 2 seconds (not like anybody would have noticed had she just gone on herself). Maybe if she hadn't drank 3 beers on the 15 minute train ride, she wouldn't be hurtin' so bad now would she? Somebody grabbed my ass but I couldn't even be fake angry or lay blame because I kind of liked it. Anything to give a cantankerous old lady a thrill...
The everlasting train ride finally reached its destinantion. When those doors flew open, I pushed my way out faster than Tiger Woods on his way to a brothel. Along the way, trampling over several beer bottles, an empty bottle of Bushmills, and what could have been green vomit (but I adamantly refused myself a double-take). After all, I had never held my breath that long and I needed air ASAP. I didn't want to risk passing out and one of those plastered perverts attempting CPR on on me (I'm not desperate). We made our way out onto Public Square where the true freak show began. Everywhere around me there was a story waiting to be told. On my left, we had a bunch of tanked teens rolling around on the statue ledge screaming "Ole, Ole, OLE, OLE" (I think they forgot this was an Irish-themed kind of day). On my right, was a transvestite in thigh-high neon-green sequined platform boots (I asked her/him/it where he/she/? got them BTW). Directly in front of us was the Cleveland Metro SWAT team poised and ready to take action in case some deranged lunatic (don't know ANY of those) decided to start some craziness (not sure, but I kept getting the feeling I was being scoped). When we finally waded through the crap (literally) and found our parade perch, we descended on it like hippies at Woodstock and set up camp. I suggested we lay lengthwise across the curb so that we would be assured ample space, but J thought I was overreacting (she acts like she knows me or something) and didn't think that was warranted (novice). Of course, by the start of the merriment, we were crushed up against the crowd control gates and being rubbed up against by God knows who (or what - again, no protests here).
Another WTF observation: who the hell thought of making a 3 foot long plastic tube, making it green, putting a little flare at the bottom, and said, "Let's sell these fuckers across the nation at all St. Patrick's Day parades so a bunch of sloshed assholes can blow their hot air into them and annoy any (and every) unsuspecting fool within a 1.5 mile radius."??? Seriously? Those things ought to be banned simply because I can't think really much else any more grating than the sound of a dying moose (or at the very least, an extremely sick or seriously maimed one; or maybe a moose having kinky sex - anyway, I digress) for hours on end. Why couldn't those people that bought those kinky-moose-sex noise -makers waste their money on something harmless like a nice Irish flag or green boa? Never mind that I almost poked a few people's eyeballs out while I was vigorously waving my faux flag about (they say kids heal faster than adults and besides, they shouldn't be creeping up behind a crazy person waving a sharp object)!
Needless to say, the whole event was more about people watching than the actual parade itself. Don't get me wrong, it was a good time ( if body surfing with a million strangers is your idea of a funfest), but I don't think I'll be in a big hurry to go back anytime soon. I'm not sure if it was the pot smoking on the train (not me) or the poop-scooping hippies on roller blades along the parade route that sealed the deal for me, but one thing is for sure - I discovered I just don't like people that much in large doses. I would be much happier if I could watch, observe, and make fun of them from afar (perhaps behind a two-way mirror) but unfortunately, that can't be done (at least not legally). So for now, I must get back out into the trenches and find the drama that lurks there, just waiting to be told (somebody's gotta do it).
