I took the R train on the subway to Brooklyn and it was a horror show. Creaking, dirty, stopping mid-tunnel continually, it’s on its last legs. In contrast to the 1, 2, and 3 lines. It took an hour to get remotely near Bay Ridge, where the parade was. I had to get some air, so got out and Uber’d it the rest of the way.
I got there at the end of the parade, and ran about a mile to catch up. As it was, the only good thing was a high school marching band, some 100-strong. I’ll never forget in the 90s, I was in NYC (returning from the Frankfurt Book fair) and by chance hit the Columbus day parade. Boy! A dozen high school marching bands, and they had it together. We don’t have anything like that in the San Francisco area. And the police drum corps — wow! Maybe I have some martial memories in my genes, but I love the rat-a-tat-tat of the drums and the brass: trumpets, trombones and especially the tubas.
That night I went to Whiskey Blue and had a couple of shots of 16 year old Lagavullin, quesadillas, and watched the Warriors get their mojo back in the 3rd quarter.
