Opening Day 2015; Part 1 - Parade

My Opening Day 2015 began with a variant on an old ritual and one new ritual.  First, my lucky baseball boxer shorts failed to live up to their designation last season so in their stead I geared up with a pair of Super Mario Bros boxers.  Second, a healthy dose of Blue Emu on a barking rotator cuff because, well, in the past 5 years my body has aged 25 years.  With my protective layers in place, I jumped into my Director of Premium Sales & Service disguise, replete with Cincinnati Reds lanyard:

After a comical Benny Hill-type dash through a convention center parking garage, only to have the car directly in front of us snag the final available spot, Lou and I discovered ample parking in a surface lot at Third Street and Central Avenue, deep below Fort Washington Way.  We cruised past a gathering of a half-dozen galoots tailgating in the parking lot, blasting out from their under-powered car stereo John Fogerty's quasi-classic "Centerfield."  Four times that afternoon, we were to hear "Centerfield."  In derisively describing the tailgaters to Lou, I needed but two words; football fans.  Having parked, Lou and I hiked in the direction of the parade route.  Climbing up Race Street, a blue convertible Bentley raced down reminding us of Uncle Carl Lindner days of yore.  Approaching the intersection of Fourth and Vine Streets, Lou spied a long-wheelbase seven-series BMW stuck in traffic sporting a personalized Reds on Radio license plate.  The cryptic nature of the vanity plate immediately had us puzzling out to whom the Bimmer belonged.  Johnny Bench? Lou posited.  Nah, not descriptive enough for JB.  Pat Corrales? was my own supposition.  By this time we'd nearly caught up to the idling BMW and I could see the driver was wearing an unmistakably bright red blazer.  It's either a Reds official or a Reds Hall of Famer, I said to Lou, my fan-boy giddiness unashamedly bubbling over.  Drawing even with the land yacht I ducked so that I might more easily peer into the compartment and discovered at the helm my close personal friend Robert (he let's me call him "Bob") Castellini.  Walking on, Lou fished out his Android and I seated myself on a curbside bench near the intersection.  Traffic soon began to flow and, sitting alongside me, Lou captured the approach of the SS Fruit Magnate (license plate obscured out of respect for the privacy of my close personal friend, Bob):

If you look closely, you may discern Bob's red blazer and stylish French cuffs.  As Mr Castellini sailed past he looked a bit grumpy and, oddly, he failed to acknowledge my beaming presence.  I think - in my disguise - he had me confused for a certain Director of Premium etc etc whom, I've heard, Bob isn't as friendly with as he is with Mr Heavy Artillery.  I'm just sayin'.  Despite barricades and a heavy police presence blocking further passage up Vine Street, the SS Fruit Magnate was waved through and disappeared into a secret, underground lair parking garage.

Lou and I took up a vantage point near the corner of Fifth and Vine, in front of McCormick & Schmick's, across from Fountain Square (not pictured, below) and in the long shadow of the Carew Tower (helpfully pictured, below).

 

 

For those of you who may have been watching local television coverage of the parade, WKRC chief mediaurologist meteorologist Tim Hedrick was camped out directly in front of us, broadcasting his witty commentary on the proceedings:

Tim Hedrick aka "the Concerned Citizen" as heard irregularly on 700 WLW's "Bill Cunningham Show" is highlighted, rather insufficiently, in the green box (above).  Leading the way was, as always, the Cincinnati police motorcycle brigade:

The Grand Marshals for this year's parade were The Nasty Boys of 1990 World Champion Cincinnati Reds infamy; Rob Dibble, Norm Charleton and Randall Kirk Myers.  In the photo below, the Rice University triple-major Norm waves at me!

Heavy Artillery rarely acknowledges anyone from the Professional League of American Rules Football (or PLARF), but parade participant Anthony Munoz deserves both recognition and respect!

Mr Munoz can be seen manhandling a youth in the photo above.  Such is the consequence - one imagines - for disrespecting the PLARF Hall of Fame offensive tackle.

Personally, the parade highlight each year is a sighting of the Kahn's giant inflatable pig:

There's an inside joke Lou and I share about this Kahn's float, Pink Floyd and a comedy routine from a long-forgotten stand-up comedian from the 1980s which shall remain unpublished here.

Did someone mention the ghost of Carl Lindner?  Another parade favorite of mine is the Frisch's Big Boy:

Note the image of my all-time favorite dessert, pictured on the side of the truck and directly below the Big Boy.  That's right!  The Frisch's hot fudge cake.  Mmm-Mmm!  Note also, "the Concerned Citizen" with hands on hips, blocking my view.  From his body language, I can only infer that the self-stylized "Weather Authority" (who does he think he is?  Erica Collura?!) has personal animosity towards the Big Boy.

Then, nearing the end of the parade, a float drifted past which carried a rather curious element:

Highlighted in the green box, at the back of the float in question, a suspicious character appeared nefariously to be transmitting and/or receiving data from a geosynchronous orbiting satellite.  At this discovery, Lou and I deemed discretion to be the better part of valor so we vacated the immediate area and headed for the ballpark.

Next week:  "Opening Day 2015; Part 2 - Ballpark, or How I Nearly Lost Opening Day.

Roll the credits!