I wasn't going to go.

Three Rivers Festival is back and I woke up this morning to a local news caster talking about what a wonderful day it was, perfect for a parade.  I wasn't planning to go, I had plans to meet friends for lunch, and didn't want to be all hot and sweaty, but the more they talked about it on TV, the better it sounded.  While the Three Rivers Festival has been an annual event since 1969, this was the first parade in four years because of Covid.  Last year they had the Festival but without the parade.  I know it started in 1969 because it was my husband and my first anniversary month.  We were married on July 13, 1968 and every year since the dates of the Festival have included the 13th.  It was our festival and we went to at least some events every year.  And so, for a multitude of reasons I walked three blocks from my apartment to a spot near the end of the parade.  It was a good parade; dancers, several excellent marching bands, veterans, fire engines, people on roller skates, the corvette club, lots of commercial entities, many police cars and anything else that could make a loud noise.  There was one tense moment.  I was watching from a park like area on one side of a railroad overpass over the parade route when I saw the next float coming.  The main feature on this float was a large tall floppy inflated figure (like you see waving at the world from car dealerships).  I watched with bated breath as the float got closer and closer to the overpass.  The figure was obviously too tall to make it under the overpass.  But, at the last possible instant (don't you love the drama) one of the human riders on the float bent the floppy figure over so it could pass safely under the overpass.  It's a good thing too.  There were lots of little kids along the route who would have been traumatized if the floppy guy was beheaded.  Disaster averted!