Sarah Nigbor

I think it’s best for me to watch parades rather than be in them. As I watched the grand River Falls Days Parade Friday night, memories came flooding back of past parades I’ve been in. Yes, it’s definitely best that I’m a spectator. But I’m sure I’ll get roped into marching in another one at some point.

As a new trombone player in the Meyer Middle School Marching Wildcats, I was beyond excited to march in my first parade. I got over the fact that I looked like a bumble bee in my black and yellow uniform because, after all, my fellow bandmates looked like bees too. I made it the whole parade route before I realized something was wrong. As I stood in the parking lot of the Copper Kettle, where the parade route ended, my vision began to go black. It was like I was in a long tunnel and my head was spinning. Next thing I knew, I was waking up flat on my back on the asphalt, with a circle of concerned faces above me. My trombone had clattered to the ground and rocks were digging into my back. I had fainted. Apparently I’d gotten overheated in my bumble bee uniform. I was mortified. My tween self wanted a sinkhole to open up and swallow me. Take note: If you’re marching in a parade, drink plenty of water beforehand – especially if you’re wearing a hot, long-sleeved polyester uniform.

When I worked for the Pierce County Herald, we entered a float in the Cheese Curd Festival parade. The theme that year was “tropical,” and we decked out the company van to the hilt. As we sat in line on Grant Street in the sweltering sun, a black bank of clouds rolled over Ellsworth and the heavens opened. Hail and pouring rain soaked us within five seconds. The storm was over as fast as it began. Steam rolled off the streets and the sun came back with full burning force. We frantically tried to resurrect our float decorations. Ironically, we won the most festive parade entry, but I felt anything but festive. My coworker and I looked like bedraggled hula girls. My second lesson: Don’t throw chocolate candy at a parade. While more delicious than fruity things, it melts and splats on the asphalt.

While at the New Richmond News, our sales team entered a float in the Hometown Holidays parade. We built a mailbox filled with newspapers, covered in holiday lights, complete with a flag. My children, ages 5-10 at the time, were excited to march next to the float and hand out candy. What a fiasco that turned out to be. The parade organizers made a rule that candy couldn’t be thrown; it had to be handed to people. The crowds lining the parade route were literally six people deep. My poor kids were swarmed with combative children fighting for candy. A few times the crowds swallowed them up and I heard “Mommy, help!” Third lesson: Not allowing candy to be thrown is silly.

Lastly, our 4-H club marches each year in the Spring Valley Dam Days parade. They are allowed to throw candy at this parade. A few years ago, my little daughter proudly pulled her red wagon full of stuffed animals, representing animals you can enter in the fair. She joyfully threw candy out to the crowd, but one time was too exuberant. She chucked a sucker at an older man and hit him square between the eyes. He did not look amused. Fourth lesson: If allowed to throw candy, don’t aim at faces.