What I saw.

What they saw.  (Me with a broken back holding a cold little girl)

The only good parades are ones you accidentally see.  I saw a parade on Saturday.  Sadly, it was no accident.

One time Elise and I were walking down the street.  A pot parade started marching towards us, so we stopped to admire the potheads.  And then…on a collision course, marching in the opposite direction was a Polish parade – lots of traditional Polish folk costumes, some polka action, and plenty of red and white flags.  Despite the faulty parade route planning, neither parade seemed to care.  They all seemed to know each other.  There was lots of high fiving all around.

Another time I was giving a group of Canadians a tour of Chicago.  I had forgot about the St. Patrick’s day drunkfest parade.  That’s the one where they dye the green river even greener.  Upon exiting the subway, it took twenty minutes to walk one block.  But what a block it was.