The Rose Parade
Pasadena
Jan. 1, 2013
Here at the tail end of the Rose Parade's 5-mile journey, where wrecker trucks tow disabled floats worn out from their short journey, and where high school marching bands stagger towards the deliverance of a phalanx of porta-potties and a free In-n-Out Burger, we had come with the Jeffries to welcome 2013.
Our carefully prepared and packed cooler with champagne and orange juice, cinnamon rolls, fresh fruit, cheese and cold cuts, sat lonely on the kitchen floor in Long Beach -- left behind in the morning's rush to get out the door.
But I was less concerned about that than I was about my visceral response to seeing the old green uniforms of the Altadena sheriffs patrolling the route. How many times had I seen those uniforms coming my way-- and never portending anything good. "Like Santa meeting up with the Central Park Rangers," I joked with the daughters, and then regaled them with mildly exaggerated tales of wild shenanigans across many Altadena nights: a red Fiat 128 careening at the edge of control around sharp dark corners while flashing lights give chase. It's a wonder I escaped military duty or jail.
