Practicing Patience

The place that I chose to sit and wait for the parade couldn’t have been better, as listed in the previous blog. I sat in the shade, not wanting to burn myself to cinders on my first day out. However, 3:05, no parade. 3:10. No parade. 3:15, a middle aged woman sat down beside with her daughter, I think, and grandson. The grandmother was greying at the temple, wore thick glasses and a very traditional, hefty black dress. I nodded at her when she sat down. It’s what I do now. It’s my heyhowyadoing nod. She nodded back at me in a very matronly way, head tilted back a bit, eyes studying me. Then she fired off a huge amount of Spanish at me. I shrugged and looked sad. “No hablas espagnol.” She smiled and shrugged and looked away as three more people approached. Members of her family, I assume. There was not enough room for them to sit down so I tapped her on the shoulder and moved a bit farther away. Her family sat down. She thanked me and, again, spoke to me in machinegun-fire Spanish. Whole sentences. Whole paragraphs. Whole pages worth. She gestured up and down the road, and over towards the sea and, as far as I can tell, the hot dog vendor across from me. Her tone was light and cheerful but what was she really saying? There were two choices. " Hey, you stupid Gringo, look around you, do you see any white people? No, that is because they are all dead. We catch them on the road, kill them and toss them into the sea or they become hot dog food. So, I know you can’t understand me because you are ignorant but I bet you think I am being nice by the sound of my voice, yes?" Or. "Hey, thanks for moving, that was very kind of you. Look around, there is not much space for anyone to sit and I am not as young as I used to be and I really appreciate being able to sit down. Do you see many people letting other sit down? No, that is because space is pretty limited. People line up on the road, sit on the seawalls, and eat hot dogs all day long. So, thank you for understanding and I hope you can hear by the sound of my voice, that you did good, yes?" Now, which one Margot automatically assume and which one would I assume? In all fairness, she put her aged hand on my knee and smiled at me when she was done so I think she was really just talking about how amazing the parade would be. By 3:30, I began to suspect the Mexicans may not be on time. Odd, I know but there was still no sign of anything happening. I turned to my new friend and said, “Por favor,” and pointed at my watch and added, “Parade?” She smiled at me and shrugged. Either she didn’t understand. Or she did and it was her way of saying, here, amigo, nothing is on time. By 4, my bum was getting numb but I decided to make the most of it by watching all the people that had begun to gather in hopes a parade would begin before 2020. I watched the grandmother’s grandson play with his folding seat. He was about 6, I would guess, chubby and buck-toothed, a kid who loved to smile and entertain everyone around him. He wore a new mysterio WWF wrestler hat and a well worn Mysterio T-shirt. He played with his chair until it collapsed and then looked back for laughter. We all laughed. He then put it all back together and inched it forward in tiny bounces until he was almost in the street, looking back at his family to see when they would start to yell at him. When he was about to tip off into the gutter, he got what he was looking for, a good stern shout. Oh sure he was a goof but a good natured goof. For an hour, all I could do is watch the police set up barriers and pat down every one who came through, watch the portable vendors walk up and down with their wares. Candies. Funny toys that were shot into the air and came pinwheeling down, masks, glitter eyelashes, horns, Viking helmets (oh I have no idea why), funny colored hair wigs, cotton candy, chips, drinks, bags of nuts, and shoes, yes shoes. The shoe guy did a pretty good business actually, as it the young vendor hawking the flying toys. I had to laugh at the grandmother’s grandson who watched the flying toys with wide eyes. He began to bounce up and down as he saw how cool it was and his imagination took hold. But he didn’t beg for one. Not yet. He giggled and shouted with glee as the toy would flitter down and the vendor would catch it. Only when other children started to get one did he turn to mom and give her the big eyes. Oh please, please. Mother held firm. The poor kid ran up and down the street like a dog chasing birds, watching the other kids play with their new toy and dreaming how amazing that toy would be in his hands. He would shoot it higher than anyone and race faster and farther to catch it. The crowds would applaud. Finally it was grandma that gave in. I almost laughed. He got his toy but try as he might, he could never quite get it to work the same way the vendor had done. he couldn't shoot as high, sometimes it just fell at his feet but he was the type of happy kid who didn't seem to care. (should be a vid of him). By 4:45 there were families and kids everywhere. The whole sidewalk was filled with people waiting for the parade. (This is the photo) I began to think that the 3pm thing was just plain wrong. Clearly all these folks thought it would start around 5pm. Or 6. But I had to still meet my driver at 5:30. Unless the parade happened in the next 10 min, and there was certainly no sign of that, I would have to figure out what to do. Give up my perfect seat and honor my word that I would return? Or fuck the driver for letting me off in the wrong zone and giving me incorrect information about the parade? Tough choice.