The Parade

My recent email to friends and family regarding my early-morning activities on Thanksgiving Day:

Hey all -

That special time of year is approaching us again. The holidays. A heart-warming time of year when families everywhere gather to practice time-honored traditions, like killing a tree and then dressing it up in the center of your living room, or risking your life by stringing multicolored lights on the trim of your roof. Or maybe you'll decide to walk around your neighborhood and sing songs to complete strangers.

But one of my favorites is the day where friends and families gather to gorge themselves carbohydrate-rich food and then watch grown men try to maim each other in the interest of moving an inflated pig skin in a given direction. And what better way to begin Thanksgiving Day than by yet another one of our very sensible and noteworthy traditions: watching huge inflated objects (possibly, but not necessarily pig-skins) as they are dragged through the streets of Manhattan. Its parade time.

Look for the one that looks like a giant yellow bird (aptly named "Big Bird"), which is neither free-range, nor hormone free, and would probably take about 9 years to defrost if fully frozen. Believe me, you do not want to see the size of this bird's gizzard. Anyway, look for me somewhere beneath it - I'm the guy in charge of getting the balloon safely dragged through the streets without killing any bystanders (innocent or otherwise). You may feel inclined to brag to your friends that you "know the guy who's fate hangs in the balance of that big yellow bird's flight."

It might not be as much fun as being forced to kiss a person for the simple reason that someone hung a traditional weed from the ceiling above your head, but hey...its tradition!

Happy Thanksgiving.


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