Everyone loves a parade...

...until the rain starts.

Through a series of poor choices and utter lack of common sense, I found myself at The Fairfield Recreation Complex last Friday evening. The town was celebrating Independence Day by having their annual parade, followed by fireworks. There were all sorts of vendors, food stands, live music, facepainting, and other assorted, useless crap. Anthony Franco's was on hand to provide overpriced pizza for the masses. My boss had asked me to go to there and help Bob and Andrea set everything up, because Bob and Andrea are pretty much retarded. Seriously.

My boss would've put me in charge of the whole thing sooner, but he had assumed that I had a gig that night (which I did not), and did absolutely no preparation for the evening. It was a clusterfuck. We got to the field to find ourselves directly in the hot Sun. The other vendors had tents, signs, generators, and other supplies of a professional nature. We, on the other hand, were very ghetto. No tent, a shitty, handwritten sign, and lacking several necessary items. My boss is notoriously cheap, but I made him spring for a $29.99 tent from Cost Cutters. I told him that there was NO FUCKING WAY I was going to sit there baking in the Sun like a moron. So, I had to speed back to L.P. to pick up the tent, and more supplies, including twelve pizzas.

I got back to the gig just before they closed Hollywood Rd. for the parade. We set up the tent (actually, I pretty much set up the tent myself. Andrea and Bob kind of stood around. Useless.), and got ready to sell pizza. I was only supposed to help set up, and then go home, but I got the distinct feeling that Bob and Andrea should be supervised. My boss had that same feeling, so he asked me to stick around and keep an eye on things. I figured, what the hell, this could get interesting.

It did.

After standing around for a bit (we didn't anticipate being busy until after the parade. Most people were lined up on the sidewalks and lawns to view the proceedings.), I realized something was missing. Alcohol. I was still a bit hung over from Thursday night (which was a blast), and had foolishly agreed to baby-sit Bob and Andrea instead of going home to nap before the big Beach Party at The BAG Friday night. I needed Sparks. What to do?

The roads leading in and out of the Recreation Complex (they can't just call it a park? Hoity-toity assholes) were closed to all traffic, and I doubted there were any liquor stores within walking distance. I had my boss' cell phone with me (I have the best calling plan ever) so I called Rob. I left him a voice mail, telling him where I was and what I needed. I told him that if he showed up with Sparks I would give him all the free pizza he could eat. Now, I really didn't expect anything. I was just throwing it out there as a goof. Much to my surprise, as I was watching the parade (everyone loves a parade), Rob walks up with a bag of Sparks.

Rob is awesome. I couldn't believe that sumbitch showed up. He told me he had to go to two different liquor stores to find Sparks, and then had to park blocks away from the Rec-Plex and walk all the way to our pizza stand. Kudos, sir. I owe you.

So I hooked Rob up with some food and poured a can of Sparks into an empty Powerade bottle and found a good spot from which to watch the rest of the parade. All was right with the world.

Then the torrential downpour started.


[I'll have to continue this ripping yarn either later tonight or tomorrow. I've got my weekly gig with Big Al at Cabin Fever tonight, and I need to shit, shower, and shave before I head out.]

*As always, there are no guarantees that I will actually finish this tale, just as I never got around to writing about Skydiving, or completed my online Will many months ago. Its my Blog, and I promise nothing.*

*Piss off.*