So That's What A Rose Parade Is.

If Vin Scully can get up early in the morning on New Year's Day, so can I.

Although I wouldn't want to make a habit of it.

In all my time living in Los Angeles, I had never bothered to attend the Tournament of Roses Parade in Pasadena.  Heck, I even went to the Rose Bowl game once.  But, a bunch of floats with flowers?  Meh.

Truth be told, I never paid attention to this parade back east.   It would be on the TV and run several times during the same day.  Did I watch it ever?  Nah.

But, this year, it was the 125th edition of the parade.  And the beloved Vin Scully was named as Grand Marshall.  Enticements to be sure.  But to camp out on a curb with the general public?  Hell, no.

But a reserved seat in the grandstands just below the television booth?  Now you're talking my language.

My college roommate scored this deal for me.  He's a sports journalist and covered many a Rose Bowl contest.   So many that he was in Pasadena this year because he authored this coffee table book commemorating the 100th Rose Bowl game.  This got him some perks and two nice seats.  I was offered one of them and gratefully accepted.

"You have to be there by 730AM."

What????

On January 1 of every year, Pasadena is a place to be avoided if you're a driver.  Because of the game and the parade, the entire town is virtually roped off.  I had no clue how the hell I was going to get there.  My pal was headed to the game after the parade and had a press parking pass.  Me?  There was no room for my Toyota Highlander.

Another friend suggested I take the Gold Line train.  Okay, I have never been on mass transit of any kind in the state of California.  The Disneyland tram doesn't count.  How the heck was I going to manage this?

"Remember you have to be there by 730AM."

Gulp again.

So, on January 1, my alarm clock went off at the unsightly time of 530AM.  Luckily, the roads were clear except for some people who still had not arrived home after their New Year's Eve parties.  I arrived at Union Station in downtown Los Angeles in record time.   And was met by an onslaught of Michigan State fans headed to both the parade and their team's appearance in the big game.  I simply followed them onto the train headed to Pasadena.   There were lots of folks to guide you.   It was all very calm and civilized.

And easy.

Of course, the train dumped us off at a station which was a mile and a half away from my elitist seat.  Suddenly, my crinkly knees were faced with their first endurance test of 2014.  To make matters worse, the sidewalks were jammed with slobs who had been living there in tents since Thanksgiving.  It all looked like #OccupyPasadena.  

The quickest way for me was to walk in the street, which would be the actual parade route.  The only problem was getting to the thoroughfare.   And navigating my way through these temporary shelters that had been erected by these idiots who had been camped out for days.  I saw one Laz-B-Boy recliner.   And a loveseat for Pete's sake.

All this for some floats with flowers pasted on them.

Meanwhile, the stores that line Colorado Boulevard must take extra precautions every year from this onslaught of idiots that arrive every January 1.  Their storefronts are boarded up as if they are expecting a hurricane.

Once I finally completed the trek to my reserved seat, I did get to enjoy what this parade has to offer.

Indeed, it's more than just some flowers glued onto a float.

Even the High Def cameras of television don't do justice to the creativity behind these eye catching moments.

Even when one of the Clydesdale horses took a dump, it was very colorful.

There were floats that blew smokes.   There were floats that had alien pods blasting off into space.  And floats with rescue dogs that did tricks.  All in amazing color.

There was music from KC and The Sunshine Band, Daryl Hall, and Natalie Cole.   Okay, so what if their careers expired during the first Bush administration.  Somehow, it all seemed like fun.

There were marching bands from high schools that have over 5,000 students.  There was an appearance by the original Harlem Globetrotters.   And a bunch of acrobats on pogo sticks.

Since we were seated in the prime television spot, most of the floats stopped in front of us for an extended period of time.   It was the central performance spot.  And that included the much-publicized gay wedding that was officiated by somebody who looked like the late Esther Rolle.   Of course, right after the parade, the very last float is followed by a bunch of political hucksters touting their own causes.

"Down with Fracking."

"Mr. President, Leave Our Health Care Alone."

"No Gay Marriage."

"Jesus is Alive In All of Us.  Repent!"

Suddenly, the beauty of the day is completely destroyed.  

I trudged the mile-and-a-half back to the train station.  I was walked with what might have been half the population of the state of California.   Along with half the population of what used to be Mexico and China.

I had gotten up at 530AM in the morning on January 1.

I had managed to get myself out to Pasadena using mass transit.

I had mingled with folks that I rarely ever bother with.

And, horrors of all horrors, I had missed Vin Scully's appearance by about thirty seconds.

What a lousy way to start 2014, right?

Nah.

I loved every flower-picking minute of it.  And would do it again.

Ahem...as long as I have a reserved seat.

Dinner last night:  Italian panini.