I worked until almost 2 a.m. on Friday night, and needed to be “at the Camaro” in one of the staging areas for the Scranton St. Patrick’s Day Parade, at 11:15 a.m. on Saturday. And when I looked at myself in the mirror the next morning (the same morning), I wondered if there was a way I might be able to dye the bags under my eyes green, in celebration.
Man, I was dragging massive ass. But I really wanted to have the experience of participating in the parade, and was both flattered and intrigued by the invitation. The public relations arm of GM had chosen me for some reason, and there was no way I wasn’t going to be there at the requested time.
So, Toney dropped me off, and I went hoofing it through the blowing rain. It was a bad day for a parade, no doubt about it. But many months of preparation goes into it, and it would probably take a Xenia, Ohio-style tornado for them to cancel the thing. Parade Day must stand!
A Blow-Pop green Camaro should not be a hard thing to find, but I didn’t see it anywhere. I walked up and down the block, and it wasn’t there. Was all this an elaborate hoax? Possibly perpetrated by Metten and/or Mark Maynard? Will it somehow end up on YouTube, where I will be mocked and ridiculed, and sworn-in as the high-mayor of Douche Town? These thoughts seriously went through my head…
I saw a passel of greyhounds dressed in green sweaters, and felt sorry for them. Dogs have built-in jackets (as well as snout-cozies), and shouldn’t be forced to wear people clothes. The poor guys were prancing around on their pipe-cleaner legs, probably embarrassed to the point of physical illness. In fact, what happened later might have confirmed my suspicions.
I also noticed a man dressed in nothing but boxer shorts, hanging around a “float” with a toilet and running shower on it. Yeah, who the hell knows? And there was a group of Renaissance Fair veterans draped in animal pelts and chainmail, brandishing weapons. Occasionally a sword fight would break out, and they all had deadly serious expressions on their faces.
And the mayor has his cabinet…
Eventually I felt a low rumble in my sternum, and saw a green Camaro pull alongside the curb halfway down the block. I’m not much of a car guy (I drive a Camry), but that thing looked pretty freakin’ bad-ass to me. Menacing, even. My mid-life crisis was starting to flare-up, just looking at it.
I gave them time to get settled, and wandered over. There was a group of folks, in two vehicles. I believe they were all involved in the publicity end of things, and everyone was exceedingly friendly and nice.
After a few minutes of chit-chatting, I was invited inside the car and realized it was just going to be me and the driver. Amazing. I was under the impression there would be several local bloggers in there. But no, I was it.
The driver’s name was Chris, and he works for GM in New York, as a public relations specialist. I don’t really know his exact title, but that might possibly be close. He was a good guy, and we talked at length about publicity. I asked if he’d ever done anything in publishing… you know, maybe a hilarious novel by a first-time author, or anything along those lines…
I am a whore.
I learned something very interesting while we talked. Remember when Dr. Pepper vowed to give everyone in America a free soda, if Guns ‘n’ Roses released their Chinese Democracy album by year’s end? Yeah well, that was Chris’s idea. And how much viral publicity did he earn his client with that stunt? It was all over the internet and TV for a couple of weeks.
So, we sat and waited for a long time, while the parade took shape around us. There were essentially five separate mini-parades, all linked-up to form one big honkin’ mondo parade. And I think we were somewhere in the middle.
Eventually a man wearing an expensive overcoat and an air of authority gave us the signal to fall into position. Chris pulled the Camaro into the middle of the street, and I realized there was a bunch of people around the car with bags of giveaway rubber bracelets. The freebies seemed to have shamrocks and Chevy logos on them, but I’m unclear.
The emasculated greyhounds were in front of us at that point, and while we waited for actual forward motion to commence, one of them dropped down in the back and cut-loose with an astounding load of diarrhea. And the bracelet women howled in protest.
When we started moving, Chris attempted to avoid the shit-slick, but the “OHHH GOD!” from the crowd indicated that he hadn’t fully succeeded. “You’ve got poop on your tire!” a disembodied voice told us, from a distance.
Sheesh. It’s a wonder we didn’t fishtail on all that liquishit.
I was expected to send Twitter updates throughout the parade, and I sent about twenty using an app I downloaded to my phone. But when I got home I saw that only four actually posted. What the hell, man?? I tried, I swear I did.
And as we moved along the parade route, people were losing their minds over those free bracelets. They were practically knocking each other to the pavement, trying to get at them. It was incredible. People were acting like Costanza during a fire out there.
Also, there were MANY shouts of “Light ’em up!!” as we passed in the Camaro. I’m not sure what that means, but I assume it has roots in some sort of hickness.
Chris shook his head, and said, “These people just want a show. They don’t care if I take out the Friends of Poland marching band, or anything.”
“Hell, they’d love it,” I offered.
And that’s the way it went, during the whole parade. Near-fights for bracelets, and people hollering “LIGHT ‘EM UP!!” Before we got to the finish line, I asked Chris why they’d chosen me to ride along with them, and he said it appeared I had one of the most popular blogs in the area. I liked his answer just fine.
After the parade ended we pulled onto a side street, and they offered to drive me to my car. But I told them I’d been dropped-off, and since we were only a couple of blocks from Cooper’s… right here would be just fine.
I took one last photo of the Camaro, said my goodbyes, and headed for the bar.
And it was absolute pandemonium in there. It was packed with people, many of whom were bed-shitting drunk. I saw a woman with a terrifyingly red face reeling around the room in a SCRANTASTIC! sweatshirt, and I knew this hunk of her life would be lost forever; she’d never remember any of it.
I ordered a Guinness, to keep with the theme of the day, and had to drink it while wedged inside a coat rack, with my head amongst hangers. Great fun!
And that was that. Toney came and picked me up. She was going to come inside to join me in the coat rack for a pint, but there were no open parking spaces, so she said fukkit.
Thanks again to Chevy for inviting me along on Saturday. I had a great time, and apologize for the Twitter malfunction. I’m sure I screwed it up somehow… But I appreciate your hospitality and great taste in websites!
Here are a few pics I snapped during the day. They’re not the best, because most were taken from inside a car. But hopefully it’ll give you a flavor of the day.
Also, here are some pics I took at the same event in 2007, when I was able to move around a little more.
See you guys tomorrow!
Dude!
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters
top 5!! That rocks!
As Dog is my witness I tried to watch the streamcast of the parade, but I just couldn’t do it. After about the third “color” section from the emcees, I realized that if the parade were coming down my street, I wouldn’t watch it from the comfort of my best chair. I moved on to vacuuming.
Glad the local boy did well, though.
In reference to “Light ‘Em Up”, the spectators wanted Chris the Camaro driver to peel out, smoke tire, ya’ know… light ’em up.
However, seeing that the pavement was slick with rain and diarrhea dog shit, highly unlikely he would have been able to even if he wanted.
And, while we’re on the subject of Camaros, if anyone in the Western PA / Eastern OH / panhandle of W Va are in the market for one, I’m currently in possession of 5 brand spanky new ones, both V-6 and V-8.
St. Patty’s day is pretty kickin. However, I must say that having a Guinness is the most horrible thing you can have on any day.
Every other year my father-in-law buys me one of those ash flavored milkshakes at Epcot in Disney. And every time he goes into the little “pub” to take a leak. And every time I dump that shit out in a plant next the bench I sit on outside that “pub”. The same plant, year after year, after year. That has to be the most drunk plant in Walt Disney World.
I just can’t choke down Guinness. Other than that 45 minute layover in Ireland on St. Patricks day; where I probably drank a dozen pints of the stuff. But I think it’s a law or something to do that in the given situation.
top 10 – just because it pisses some people off…and I’m an attention whore
Holy Crap – you wore a salmon colored shirt in public?
That Camaro looks really cool – I can see it causing me no end of trouble though… better stick to my 2003 Impala…
Tried Guinness – then tried not to throw up. Then tried to give the rest of the 6 pack away. Then tried to forget the whole thing.
Good thing the Camaro wasn’t a convertible!
Slainte, Jeff and Surf Reporters!
Back in the World have I missed anything?
If it’s not “Light ‘Em Up”, it’s “Kick ‘er Sideways!”
Light ’em Up = tire burnout…peel out…skid marks, smoke, the works. There are actually “burnout pits” at some of the biker rally’s I go to in which you smoke the rear tire off your bike. Then they give you a new one if it blows out. Otherwise, you just end up with a scorched tire, smoke, and a burnt rubber smell in your nostrils that lingers forever.
I kind of expected you to be wearing a green WVSR t-shirt Jeff. You know…publicity and all that crapola.
I haven’t been to a St.Patrick’s Day parade since that “incident” with the guy who looked like a leprechaun. I was looking for a pot of gold but found his lucky charms instead. I still can’t look at red haired men of short stature without blushing.
I enjoy a Guinness every now and then, though I’m not a huge fan. I find that they taste slightly salty, which is an unusual flavor to find in a beer.
Hey icecycle66, your FIL probably thinks you love the stuff, ’cause you down a whole pint in the time it takes him to drain his dragon. Next visit, tell him you want a Harp.
Didnt make it to the parade this year, to windy and cold and drunk kids everywhere and dog shit and people shit and other shit.
parade day is for amateurs, the real event is this wednesday, spending it local(maybe mcgrath’s)
anyway, love guinness,and all beer for that matter.
thanks for the update, hope it becomes annual!
Another good reason to end the custom of handshaking:
“The University of Colorado team found that a typical person carries about 150 bacterial species on the hands, and that any two given people only share about 13 percent of these different species. … They also left the bacteria out in the open for two weeks to see if they would break down, but they did not. ‘That finding was a real surprise to us,’ said Fierer. ‘We didn’t know just how hardy these creatures were.’ … And unlike non-native disease-causing germs, they are not dislodged by standard hygiene. ‘Palm surface bacterial communities recover within hours after hand washing,’ the researchers wrote. ”
From:
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE62E4G520100315
All this Guinness hating makes me really sad. If I were forced to choose just one beer to have for the rest of my life (yikes), I wouldn’t hesitate a second before saying Guinness. (Real draft or draught in a can with the widget in it) I can’t stand all the poseurs and dilettantes who drink Guinness only on March 17th and expect some sort of medal for it. Stick to your green Coors Lite, ya fakers.
Too bad it was not a 1969 Z-28 Camaro.
Also, I like the ass on the lady in the green hat.
St Patrick’s Day draws near and once again I find myself without access to a decent Shillelagh.
What did you expect dogberry, these people thing Yuengling is a golden elixir.
Couldn’t find a green camaro burnout, so have a red one instead;
http://i44.tinypic.com/1zfltle.jpg
A near-as-dammit William of Orange shirt at a drunken Oirish event?! Are you sure only the dog was flinging it’s poop at you?
“The Office” was hoping to film part of the parade, but couldn’t because of scheduling conflicts.
That’s one hell of a color for a car. Yowza.
Mmm, Guiness. Fantastic alone or in a Black and Tan. Creamy head, full body, a special tang….mmm.
I’m with hot fuzz: a salmon shirt while riding in a bright green car in a St. Patrick’s Day parade? Salmon? Really?
And yes, I do know that “Really?” is passe. But it’s all I can think of as I sit here shaking my head.
IMHO St. Patrick’s day (as well as New Years Eve) is “amateur hour”. I wouldn’t go out if you paid for my drinks. I’ve become quite adept at mixing black & tans (gotta love the can with the widget. Genius.), so I’ll just sit my ass at home and let the amateurs go out and cull the herd. Out of the gene pool!!
So did a whole mess of Tweets get posted well after the fact? I’m itchin’ to know!
Where’s the fish?! Where’s the shirts?! Wadda ripoff! The least GM could’ve done was put one of those signs on the side of the car that advertised you being IN it. (With Smoking Fish attached, of course).
Then again, what am I complaining about? Here in my city, if we had a parade of any sort it would probably end up with several mass murders and/or collective shankings. And not in the name of St. Patrick, either.
Nice pictures. I especially liked the RenFaire ilk who found the time to hoist themselves from their gamer recliners and find time out of their day to enter the real world. Well, real to them anyway.
And Jeeezus H., Jeff! An Orange/N. Ireland shirt to a Green/Ireland parade? I’m suprised you weren’t ganged up on by any of the true Dubliners in the crowd. Then again, when it comes to St. Patrick’s Day in America I doubt any true Dubliners participate. But still….orange? Please say you wore a shamrock button at least!
“Leave Jeff Kay alone!”
You’re right, Melissa, that shirt does look orange. Jeff, you’re lucky you weren’t shot.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orange_Order
@Limey – I’m glad someone else caught the “orange shirt faux pas.” Fortunately, it looks like Scranton’s St. Patty’s celebration is about as authentic as Olive Garden. Not complaining, I’m a big fan of any reason for public drunkenness, but Jeff managed to avoid a scene because of it!
You’re damn lucky I can’t find my shilelagh
So Jeff, the big question is…was it roomy inside the camaro, or did you feel like you were being jammed into a sardine can?
I didn’t want to say anything about the flaming orange attire for a St. Paddy’s Parade. I figured I’d better keep my dicklicker shut. But since so many have chimed in…..Flaming orange?? Not even a green ball cap? Shamrock Boxers and pot-o-gold socks perhaps?? Not even a smokin fish on green paper. Yer slippin!
Maybe the orange shirt wasn’t really a faux pas, and Jeff was actually making a political statement. Perhaps he’s an ardent Northern Ireland Protestant, and infiltrated the Scranton St. Patrick’s Day Parade to advance he agenda. (Well, then again, maybe not.)
It wasn’t a shirt, it was a fleece jacket. It was cold out there, and raining. I was wearing a green Surf Report shirt underneath, which you can’t see in the photo. But whatever. 1400 words and everybody’s fixating on the color of my sleeve… Maybe I’ll just turn this into a photoblog? Taking pitchers is a lot easier than writing. At least the way I do it.
Too funny, Jeff. I made the same “mistake” early on in my relationship with an Irishman. (I have always loved all things Irish, but never bothered to learn the history…I was young and stupid). He brought me to this store, as a surprise on a day of just soaking up sunshine and enjoying the afternoon. Well, my favorite color has always been orange, and I, with my orange shirt, and bright orange bag walked into a shop called “Irish on Grand”. I got some “looks”…he realized why…and he whisked me out of there and started explaining about the North versus South, Catholics versus Protestants, etc…(This shop is owned and run by people FROM Ireland, complete with brogue and all). I still didn’t “get it” so we went to an “authentic” Irish pub (I had changed my shirt by then…couldn’t do much about the bag!) and there were Irish newspapers and all manner of information/history of Ireland.
I learned alot that day, and now know better than to wear orange to an Irish festival or anything pertaining to All Things Irish.
As a matter of fact, I speak Gaeilge now! (I guess I started taking lessons so I could go back to that shop and apologize for any offense, since none was meant).
Slán agat and Dia is Muire dhuit!
Let the guy up. Sheesh.
Jeff, you could have been wearing a tuxedo made of turds for all I care.
I had stopped by my local drinking establishment after work on Saturday. The St. Patty’s festivities had already begun. I was admonished because I was wearing a black V neck sweater. Everyone else had one some semblance of green.
For one, the actual day isn’t until the 17th, and two, I’m Irish 365 days a year. Wearing green isn’t going to change my pride in my heritage.
So I basically told them all to stick it up the collective arses and mind their own P’s & Q’s.
Wow…2 weeks ago I insult one of our favorite Surf Reporters and now I’m the first to point out a fashion choice that I thought would be kinda innocent fun that starts up a shit storm and offends the guy himself who makes me laugh….for free…a whole bunch of times per week…(did I mention for free?)
…this is me ratcheting it back a notch…
Well…crap. Now I, too, feel badly about commenting on Jeff’s ride-along attire. So…I’m sor…I’m sorr…I’m so….aw, hell. I apologize.
One thing, though: please don’t tell TW that I apologized for something. She’ll start expecting it, too, and I just can’t have that.
Oh hell, the point wasn’t sartorial choice – it’s that orange is specifically like a red flag before a Catholic bull. We all know Jeff wasn’t making a political statement, but were remarking on the irony.
Real irony, not Alanis Morrissette irony.