The Doo-Dah Parade!

We marched in the Doo Dah one year.  Of course we did!  You don’t think we would let an opportunity like that to slip by, do you?

We met on the roof of a parking garage in downtown Pasadena.

As I understand it, the Doo Dah Parade originated in the foggy minds of two guys in a Pasadena bar one afternoon.  They decided that their parade would be called the “Tournament of Noses.”  Their queen would not be a pretty little sorority sweetie, but some gal wearing black leather and fishnet stockings and she would brandish a whip.  Instead of proper floats, participants could do anything they wanted.  There would be no political correctness or rule-following drones in the Doo Dah.

We put the last touches on our cardboard vehicles.  Mine was a replica of my '86 Mustang  convertible with the license plate that said, WINE 30.

The parade came to pass on the streets of Pasadena on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  It continued to occur upon that day for several years.  I think it has been rescheduled to a more irreverent day now, but I am not sure when you can see it.

Here, my hubby is securing my shoulder straps.  His cardboard Harley is in the background with Todd.

The first, and possibly the most impressive Doo Dah group I remember was the Synchronized Marching Briefcase Team. There were several synchronized groups to follow, including the Lawnmowers, the Hibachi Bar-B-Qers, Nappers in Recliners, Shopping Carts, and my personal favorite, the Synchronized Lawn Chair Brigade.

The plan was to "drive" down the street until this gal blew her whistle and then we would crash into each other and yell inappropriate LA traffic threats.

Later there were a Garbage Can Lid Percussion group, the Dolly Parton Impersonators, Guys with Blow-Up Dolls, and Dancing Condoms.

Todd was a yuppy attorney who was on his cell phone and reading his Wall Street Journal while driving in his Beemer.

This is Todd's mom and a good friend of mine, Shari.

Us?  We were the Gridlockers.  We spent weeks preparing our cardboard cars.  Mine was a perfect replica of my Mustang convertible, complete with my license plate that said, “WINE 30.”   Richard made a replica of his Harley.

  Everyone else had a sort of theme, for example, there was the “Bleeding Heart Liberal Van,” the “Car Phone Talking Wall Street Journal Reading Attorney,” and the “Let the Baby Stand Up in the Front Seat Guy.”  You get the idea.  One gal carried a traffic light on a pole and periodically she would stop and blow her whistle and we would all crash into one another.

Shari and me.

Somewhere toward the end of the parade route three girls yelled “Hey, WINE 30!”  in unison. I looked over and they held up a half full bottle of wine.  I took it as an offer and drove my cardboard car over and grabbed it and took a swig out of it.

I still cannot believe I did that!  I guess that would be called, “Getting caught up in the moment.”

Other people’s germs.

After the parade Rich parks his cardboard motorcycle next to a real one.

Good Grief!