Tamers Run To Macy’s! (Parade Confidential….) Nov 2014

Yes – there is no experience like getting up early on a Black Friday to quick run downtown and hit a sale – I think in this case selling your soul to the Macy’s Holiday Parade to make a few bucks for a good cause.  (Since our participation will help to fund next fall’s Northwest Off Road Expo event.)Black Friday – because when you get up way too early in Seattle in late November on one of the rainiest days of the year thus far – it is about as black as it can get outside.  Even our dogs (the “wakie-wakie, licky-licky” champs of Lake Forest Park) looked at us as if we’d gone insane when we began stirring at 4:10 AM.

But – it was off to the races, as we had parade floats to man (or woman – as the case may be.)  The appointed time to meet was 6 AM at the Washington State Convention Center downtown.  It is true that the “Staff Entry” door was exactly at the corner of 9th & Pike as we had been told – but it would have been difficult to make it any smaller and more inobvious than it was.  We walked within 20 feet of it – not seeing the entry, then took a hike around the convention center trying to figure out where we REALLY were supposed to meet.  Fortunately – by the time we’d done the first lap around the place – other sleepy-headed PNW members were crowding around the entry door, and we knew we were at the right spot.  After passing the thorough security requirements (a photocopy of your driver’s license slapped on a paper card that ripped off its clip once soaked in the rain) we headed up to the 4th floor and the loading dock – where – what to our wondering eyes should appear – well – yes actually – Santa’s sleigh and 8 tiny reindeer – (in tow behind a big Ford pickup.)  Along with about 23 other swaddles of tenting material heaped in lumps on the top of cut down golf carts sporting plywood platforms and a big battery box hooked to fans.

There we started to ascertain which other Tamers had taken equal leave of their senses – as we saw Curt and Wendy, Jake, Ed and Katie, Mary and I were wandering around bleary-eyed and uncoffeed (as we were unsure if there would be any accommodations of the restroom type throughout the morning and on the parade route) and finally – Karl also sauntered in, where his noble steed (actually – a immense yellow rubber ducky with a gland condition) awaited him.  Curt was a giant Christmas Tree, Wendy a Polar Bear, Jake was a dog with a newspaper (The Seattle Times) in its mouth (and no – even though Jake did get inside his dog once it got inflated, even with all the rain – you could not technically say he stepped in a poodle.)  Mary really did have a steed of sorts, driving the giant rocking horse, Ed was the Siamese cat, Katie the large Dalmatian (which was good enough to sit on her head every time the wind blew) and I somehow lucked out to occupy the roomy confines of the Gingerbread House.  We found our contraptions waiting us in one of the very large, very dry exhibition halls at the center.

It was kinda like any trail run.  A lot of hanging out and yakking at the trailhead (the hall) a lot of “who else is coming?” and “what are we doing?” because organization and information for all of us new drivers were notable by its scarcity.  And I believe we were all new drivers – Tamers and other clubs from the PNW .  Being that some of the clubs there had comp folks in them, we were considering the virtues of playing “bump-to-pass” with the floats along the parade route.  Good sense overcame the urge.  Or maybe it was still just too early for those types of shenanigans. And – I did feel somewhat ill-at-ease – only because I had no winch, no tow strap, no tie wraps or duct tape on hand for any of those “Just-in-case” moments.  But hey – I’m a volunteer – and this rig belongs to some other wheeler.  I’ll do my best with what I got.

So – by 6:30 we get assigned to AND MUST STAY WITH our floats.  An-n-n-n-d – the parade starts at 9 AM?  NOW WHAT?  The chopped golf karts had plywood platforms skirted around their bases in various shapes and sizes, and the actual floats had not yet taken form since they were inflatable floats.  Inflation was being held off until we got in line at the actual beginning of the parade route, because apparently – the sightlines out of these things were really not quite as good as we were initially led to believe.  Jake noted that it would have been nice for the karts to have had the seat backs left in place.  It might have been almost as comfortable if they had just nailed an apple crate to the platform and called it good.  But no matter – I finally found a way to recline that made for passable snoozing while pandemonium reigned otherwise.

Finally – closing in on 8 AM (or T minus 60 minutes as they’d say in NASA-speak) we were given the high-sign to do your last potty stop, and out the door we went.  The faltering daylight only revealed that the rain had picked up from an already fever-pitch downpour, and I quickly realized that I had nowhere near enough rain gear on or in my possession to stem the tide.  Now – even though I am driving a legitimate gas-powered golf-cart sized thing as a base vehicle – the platform which forms the base of the gingerbread house is probably a little wider than a full size pickup truck.  While having the house down in a big pile on the deck made it easier to drive – it wasn’t lost on me that I had a powerful incentive to inflate that bad boy just to get out of the rain.  Down the ramp from the convention center loading dock we all bounced and trundled.  Going very wide around the hairpin turn (because of the girth) onto Terry St, down Pike – and – parked between 7th and 9th.  Great.  In an ever-increasing downpour of cold rain getting colder.  And I was so glad when they said to hit the switch and inflate the float.

Now – shall I say – I believe someone must have assumed we knew what we were doing – because there was NO instruction save Tamer’s intuition as to how these floats worked.  There was an unmarked white box with wires protruding from it and a hand scrawled arrow next to the word “ON.”  (I suppose if the box was turned around, its was the word “NO” against the direction of the arrow.)  In my float’s innards – hitting the switch caused 3 blower fans installed on the deck to buzz to life, and barely inflating my little house.  In fact – I had seen Mary’s rocking horse directly ahead of me perk right up, and I fully expected my house to do the same.  Nope.  Turgid it was not.  I began to wonder where the little blue pills should be stuffed to get a little excitement going on in the house.  Plus – I was starting to get mighty wet.  I’d been outside almost 5 minutes now.  A passing parade official offered this highly technical advice,  “You must be losing air somewhere.  Check your Velcro.”  Velcro?  This thing has Velcro?  Holy Moly – sure enough – starting to feel along under the edges of the plywood – indeed there were the little hooks, and on the bottom of the tent material making up the house sewed all the way around – all 4 sides – the little loops.  Jim Dandy!  I went around all edges of the float pushing the Velcro together – and success!

Well – kind of.  To say that my Gingerbread House quickly became fully erect would be misleading.  Let’s say it was slowly unslouching to some sloppy form of attention – but it really hadn’t yet assumed the desired position.  I did notice the driver entry to the house was unzipped, and I was really tired of getting wetter.  So – I stepped in, pulled the zipper shut – and – NOW WE’RE GETTING SOMEWHERE!  The house started to take form, and began to provide a little tent inside, which was blissfully devoid of precipitation.

Still – I noticed my candy cane was still limp – and that was a hell of a way to show off in a parade.  A quick look around inside showed that the golf cart was covered with an internal skirt – also attached to the platform with Velcro – that was not quite seated along the one side – allowing air to leak out from around part of the cart.  So – a little more time spent with that, and then reinstalling the blower I knocked over while checking the Velcro (it was recirculating air and not inflating – until I reset it) – and finally – the candy cane, while still not totally being the pride of Mr. and Mrs. James’s little boy – would do a passable job of preceding the rest of the Gingerbread House.

Okay.  Now it’s 8:05AM.  Another 55 minutes to what is supposed to be the parade start.  Now what?  All the floats had tucked tight into each other as we had trundled down the hill, still having to avoid Metro buses, regardless of our police escort.  A parade official came by, not happy with our positioning.  “You’re too close together!” she unhappily pronounced.  “You’re going to have to back up!”  Begging your pardon ma’am – even if I had eyes in the back of my head – this is a Gingerbread House.  Seeing to back up, especially with that police cruiser parked behind me – probably not going to happen.

I commented, “You know – no one mentioned anything about how we were supposed to be spaced.  We just came down the hill like we were told to.”

With no small amount of exasperation in her voice, she continued, “Well – it’s on this instruction sheet (she waved it in my general direction) and there are 3 too many of you down here.  The sheet shows you that you are supposed to be up there” (motioning behind me where the gigantic cupcake was having problems keeping itself up.)  I figured it was futile to point out to the official that she, who didn’t need the float position information, was still hanging on to the info sheet, and I – who could have benefitted from having that information – did not have it even yet.

No matter.  I went back inside my little house to get out of the rain, and stare at my wife’s rear end.  Oh – actually the rear end of her float.  Which was a horse.  Which should not lead to the conclusion that I was staring at a horse’s ass.  Or if I even muttered those words, she’d probably just reply that her float had a mirror on the back of it.

Now – when you are trapped inside a giant airbag with limited visibility with 3 noisy blowers ensuring that you will remain refrigerated for at least another hour, the world outside becomes a very unusual place.  Especially with the Macy’s Parade cranking up.  We were at ground zero of the organizational focal point of all the bands and vendors and parade participants.  And it all started to look like a drug experience I should have had as a younger man if I hadn’t been such a clean living little tyke.  There were fuzzy 7 foot tall fire hydrants walking by.  Large oversized penguins in tuxedos and top hats.  Big tall head beings that looked like they’d taken a wrong turn on their way to Mardi Gras.  Large St. Bernard’s pulling wagons.  A band clarinetist doing alternate versions of Blondie’s “Call Me” interspersed with McLemore’s “Thrift Shop.”  Walking Christmas trees and holiday light bulbs chasing after them, with running presents chasing after them.  Man – whatever was in the pop-tart that I pulled out of the vending machine – I need to get me some more of that!

As my Zen reverie stretched into 9 AM to 9:10 to 9:20 – finally – movement off to my left!   It looks like they hadn’t been lying about this being a parade.  The Nash Metropolitan Club (you know – those funny little cars from the 50’s and 60’s) strolled by – and one totally bitchin’ model I know we could all appreciate was the 4WD drive Nash.  I had some notion that the running gear might have had a former existence as a ‘Zuk, but what an interesting permutation of automotive curiosity.

Mary finally pulled away, slowly taking her 15 foot tall rocking horse with her.  Then a band hopped in, and the Frango folks popped in front of me – and then my “keeper”  (Float Marshall Vicki) radioed me to hop into line.  I was desperately hoping that having the engine running inside the golf cart might provide a few BTU’s of heat, but that was a fool’s desire.  At least the dragging exhaust pipe was far enough from the blower intakes that I doubted I’d be overcome by carbon monoxide poisoning before the morning was done.  I tried to make believe those three blowers that were pumping me up might add a little heat.  But no – it was a vain hope.  No matter how long those blowers were engaged – no heat would be issuing from them.  You think that driving a little golf cart float in a parade would be a carefree task.  Not so.  Nerve wracking was a little more like it.  Basically – I could see forwards enough to not run over the children dragging the Frango’s wagons ahead of me, and I could see Vicki beside me out of the corner of my eye.  And that was pretty much my universe.  And turns – well – it was kinda like wheeling down a twisty trail.  You had to memorize the terrain 20 or so feet ahead of you – because I couldn’t see anything worth seeing when turning a corner.  As long as I didn’t hear any screaming or see spurting blood from directly underneath my float – I was happy.

Well – the rain only increased as the morning went on – and finally – we broke out of the crowd past Westlake Center, and found our way back up to 9th Ave.  Since we no longer had to observe parade speed, and in fact – now were sharing a lane with regular traffic and Metro buses as we found our way back to our starting point, that whole drug experience thing started to kick in again as one big holiday flashback.  There was a bunch of huge cupcakes speeding up the road, and a giant nutcracker figure appearing as if he was a manic drunk driver, leering like the creepy Burger King dude they used to have on their commercials.  (And of course – that made me think again about Karl pulling up the rear in his rubber ducky, since he showed up at a Tamer’s Halloween party one year as the creepy Burger King guy – getting into your face with that botox smile and not saying a word….)

We regrouped above the bus tunnel waiting for our police escort.  Most folks, having a claustrophobic little space inside their floats, bailed out and stood under a bus shelter, waiting to take our carts back to the barn.  I watched Karl bail out of his rubber ducky, which went flaccid as he pulled the zipper and bailed out, as if the duck was giving birth to some alien space baby.  Me?  My ride was rain-free and spacious – and I saw no need to change that status.  I’d be just as cold outside as I was in – only more moist – and I didn’t really need a shower.  Ed had dependably and predictably shown up in shorts – and the blowers had been giving him a chill down on his calves for the last 3-1/2 hours, so he WAS actually warming up a bit on the sidewalk.

Finally – the police showed up on their motorcycles, to escort us.  I was pleased that the float keepers wanted things to be kept inflated so the water wouldn’t just puddle up in them.  Fine with me – but now as the third acid trip flashback of the day – it was another crazy 5 minutes of giant caterpillars, Christmas Trees, Russian stacking dolls, oversized cupcakes, a Winny-the-Pooh lookalike bear stuck in a honey jar with his feet sticking skyward – careening crazily up Pike street.  Ah – but there was one more wheeling surprise for us all.  Just before the right  hairpin turn back into the convention center loading dock ramp, a clogged drain made for a stream crossing before we made it to that turn.  I could barely believe my eyes as I saw the monster cupcakes foil deep in the flood.  When I got there with the Gingerbread House – I heard the unmistakable buzzing sound of fans sucking water, and upon seeing the plywood awash up to the gunwales, I turned the fans off until I got to the other side of the pool.  Then – I hit the fans back on before the tent settled down upon my head.

One more obstacle as we headed up the ramp – while inflated – some of the floats were a little too tall for the available clearance – and so it was a second round of pulling the plug on the fans to collapse just enough long enough  to make it through the squeeze point, then clicking them back on before full floppiness ensued.

It was an experience embodied in the Shakespearean statement “Shall we their fond pageant see?  Lord – what fools these mortals be!” (A Midsummer’s Night Dream) to be a part of this year’s Holiday parade.  A parade can be a whole lot of silliness going on, and in spite of the rain – a lot of folks were willingly having a good time and some good fun.   After all was said and done – it was kind of a hoot!  Probably should watch what I wish for – but I hope they’ll have us back next year – and while I’m hoping – I hope the weather is better the next time around.

I appreciate everyone who came out for a little morning drive in the rain!

Thanks for readin’ –
And (in whatever form you’re doing it) Keep On Wheelin’!

Moose

Here are the times in the video when each float shows up.
Giant Christmas Tree (Curt): 2:44
Siamese Cat on Ornament (Ed): 13:30
Seattle Times Dog (Jake): 15:09
Dalmation (Katie): 20:11
Rocking Horse (Mary): 21:10
Roomy Gingerbread House (Moose): 22:14
Rubber Duck with Gland Issue (Karl): 31:55
Polar Bear (Wendy): 35:07