It had taken almost an hour, but my friends and I had somehow graduated from stepping in rotting sandwiches, to pressed up against the action!
Over the weekend, it was Gasparilla time! The zany, Tampa tradition where “pirates” invade the Bay, dance around on parade floats, and throw more away more beads than rice bowls I’ve eaten in my lifetime.
No, after freeing ourselves from dead-ends along the parade route, trying to avoid looking at a girl’s panties as she sat drunk on the sidewalk, and finding a decent location to watch the parade… we were thrilled when some parade goers abandoned their prized position right against the parade fence. Quick glances everywhere– no children or disabled people to snatch the spot– it was all ours!
But being right against the fence wasn’t as cool as I imagined. Besides beads flying above our heads too high to grab, the darn men inside the parade were being as primitive as their testosterone-flying pirate costumes allowed. To my right– a cute, screaming blonde holding some mugs (not the beer kind). To my left– a duo of drunken moms wearing midriffs with one baring a belly that spilled over her tight jeans. In front of me– many darn pirates who handed beads out to the women on either side of me… but only winked at me.
What the… I’m cute! Why weren’t you handing beads to me you sick men?
Come closer and I’ll make you need that eye patch for real!
Ah, Gasparilla. One long party involving beer, boys, and (shhh) boobs. The pirates in the movies are the same as the pirates at the parade.
I guess next year I’ll stuff my bra and wear my blonde wig.
Click on my pictures to view the parade with me