The MBTA worker who sweeps the platform at the Andrew T stop is dressed for the occasion: He wears a floppy, sequined bow tie of bright green just below his Adams apple, and shiny shamrock stickers taped to each temple.
This is the first time my blockmates and I have ventured to the St. Patrick's Day parade. Upon our arrival in South Boston, we wrestle through a sea of revelers and hop a cement barrier to find a less crowded viewing space. We find a spare square of pavement immediately before the parade begins.
The festivities kick off with a police procession. The policemen pedal on bicycles, then walk in two lines, then ride motorbikes, then walk backwards. Next, the SWAT team and Special Operations emerge, then a Boston police boat. A large truck urges spectators to “Join the Boston Police Department.” The truck-driver’s wedding ring hangs out the window, sparkling.
“They’re just showing off all their transportation,” my friend comments, lighting up a vanilla cigarillo for the occasion and letting the smoke waft up into the wind. Another friend asks if now would be a good time for him to open up one of the beers he has been concealing in the pocket of his jeans. With all the policemen marching in the parade, far fewer authorities are around to monitor the crowd.
The parade helps the streets show off a new dimension: Drunkards peep out from balconies and roofs, while one wily spectator pours green beer out of her third floor window, unaware that the dribble is landing squarely on the heads of unsuspecting passersby on the street below. Behind us a group of drunk 20-somethings dangle their feet off the roof of a local convenience store.
After the parade's first wave of local authorities, the parade's musical performers pass by. First a bagpipers chorus complete with tassels, feathery hats, and berets marches past, their tune sounding remarkably like “Battle Hymn of the Republic." Waltham’s American Legion Band has made it out for the occasion, too, but their tonal quality is questionable. The Navy Band Northeast, up next, actually sounds fairly acceptable; they are followed by the Immaculate Heart of Mary School marching band. The pubescent teens blow air into their woodwinds through crooked teeth, pimpled faces, and white, stiff fingers.
The parade continues with South Boston’s Chief Marshal Ed Flynn, Bill Linehan from The Boston City Council, and Massachusetts Senator Stephen Lynch. Saint Patrick himself also appears in two incarnations. The first wears a traditional leprechaun hat (fairly authentic looking, aside from the Chaco sandals peeping out from beneath his costume), but the dress of the second is more abstract: His costume is a giant green piece of formless felt.
The sheet metal workers union and carpenter’s union are next, followed by the Men of St. Patrick from Lawrence, Mass. “This must be all they do,” my blockmate chides, wondering how this group can possibly exist year-round.
By attempting to smatter the audience with all things Irish—an Irish wolfhound dog, boutineers with green trim, hair dyed to resemble the Irish flag—the parade seems random, not Irish in the slightest. But it is a distinctly Boston hodge-podge, a way to remember our local authorities, politicians, musicians, and, most of all, characters. I guess that can be cause for a celebration, too.
