Fire Engine Guys

In the confusion of getting my Dad to the hospital in an ambulance the day before he died -- which by the way, was successful. He successfully got to the hospital and successfully got his levels back to normal and his self back to normal and everything was normal until all hell broke loose the next morning -- Jacquie, who called 911, and Julie, who ran down to the condo in, ahem, her bikini -- greeted our saviors and called them, in the heat of the moment, The Fire Engine Guys.

And the name stuck.

Oh, and Julie put on a dress.

Anyway. Last weekend, right here in New London, we got to fully bask in Fire Engine Guys love.

That's right, New London was not only host to a gigantic boat harbored in our city last weekend; New London was also host to the first-ever Connecticut State Fire Engine Guys Firefighters Association Parade.

The parade was led by Bridgeport Firefighters, who tragically lost a couple of brethren recently, then the honor guard, and then, naturally, Blumy.

Thousands and thousands -- and thousands and thousands -- of Fire Engine Guys paraded up (down?) Montauk Avenue, just a block from our house.

Mistah and I jumped on our bikes, chairs on our backs, and settled in to watch the festivities.

And oh, there were a lot of festivities.

The fire engines marched by for two-and-a-half hours.

That's a lot of Fire Engine Guys.

There were other distractions, of course. Our lovely neighbors were there, cheering on the troops . . .

. . . okay, they're not troops in the military sense, just troops in the lots-of-Fire Engine Guys sense.

We saw lots of drums and fifes and bagpipes . . .

. . . and lots of fire trucks.

Loads of fire trucks.

Millions of fire trucks.

Gazillions . . . you get the idea.

There was one high school marching band. Portland High. Where my great good friend Scott went to high school. Half-a-million PHS kids were marching so I asked a woman marching with them, "Isn't Portland High a small school?" "Yes," she said "the school has 500 kids, and 125 of them are in the band."

That's more than one in four.

And then? Well then there were more cool old shiny sparkly fire trucks . . .

. . . and cool shiny fife-and-drummers.

In the meantime, we kept waiting to spot our friend Mr. Dibble. He *is* a Lieutenant in one of Connecticut's biggest fire departments, after all. We waited and watched and watched and waited . . .

There he is! In his civvies? Harumph.

At least some guys feel the strong call of duty. Marching in a firefighters' parade in uniform.

The parade went on forever.

Really. Can you see how far back it goes? To Infinity. We didn't care, though. We sat back and soaked it all in.

'Mokey!

And Gigi!

And then more shiny stuff went by . . .

. . . I love shiny stuff.

There were Clydesdales . . .

. . . and spectators taking photos . . .

. . . and spectators just being adorable.

There were weird-sounding towns . . .

. . . and lots of flowers . . .

. . . and, naturally, Dalmatians.

But these guys were the very best thing about the Parade.

Just look at these Fire Engine Guys.

Have you ever seen a banjo -- two! -- in a marching band?

Or a guy holding a stand-up bass like a guitar?? They sounded great, too: these guys were pure awesome.

I love a ladder truck that is a truck exclusively and entirely for ladders. Shiny, shellacked, oldie-time wooden ladders that must weigh a ton.

And still, the Parade continued . . .

'Mokey! You again!

I've never even heard of Lewiston, CT.

And finally, bringing up the rear, our very own, New London's finest.

At the end of the parade all the the Fire Engine Guys congregated at Ocean Beach to show off their giant erections, er, their giant ladders erected.

Thanks for the great day, Fire Engine Boys. Come back to New London any ol' time. And bring those giant ladders with you.