Only a small handful of people actually live along the route of the annual Springtime Tallahassee parade. Most of those people paid $370K+ for one of those condos that went in where they ripped out the Old Library. But two of us, the lucky two, pay not much more than $370 a month in rent and have a little dirt and grass yard for our nearest and dearest to crowd as the parade rolls by.
Springtime Tallahassee is flat out my favorite day to live in the Fives, the small complex where I hang my hat. From the first year I was part of the celebration, 2005, a pattern established itself. Wake up at nine am, shower, dress, and put sunblock on my pale, pale head. Walk out into my "side yard" (aka, the blocked off area that used to be part of the driveway from Monroe to behind my place) to tap the keg I've had on ice all night, assuming that none of the homeless guys or teenage hippies in the neighborhood have found it while I was snoring. Get a first cup of beer (nothing makes beer seem more festive than a reason to drink at completely odd hours). And then stroll out my front door to chase off strangers who think my lawn looks like a great vantage point.
They're right, you know. Best in town. And it's reserved for me and a couple dozen buddies. You should hear the cheer that goes up when the cops come yowling over the hill up Monroe from Thomasville Road. We catch beads thrown by pirates. We flirt with the beauty queens. We encourage the baby twirlers and tumblers. We laugh at friends who were forced by their jobs to dress funny and walk with the floats. We dance to the marching bands and laugh at the Gents and Belles. We get drunk and silly and try not to fall off the edge. One time we got flashed, Mardi Gras style. One year the pirate ship float decided they didn't want to quit parading and continued up and down Monroe for an hour, still playing music and throwing necklaces.
This year, the parade falls on March 29. If you're local and you see us, stop in and introduce yourself. Go ahead and have a morning beer, if that's your taste. Indulge in a deviled egg or some boiled peanuts. In not too many more years, I suspect that only those with a half mil in their pocket will be able to afford to live on the parade route. And you know what? I doubt they even care.