Sleeping on the Sidewalk at the Rose Parade

Stacks of folding chairs, sleeping bags and portable stoves pile up in Pasadena, California starting New Year's Eve morning along the Rose Parade route. Individuals stand guard over sidewalk squares they have roped off for their families and groups who will join them during the afternoon and evening. Getting ready to camp on the sidewalk at the Rose Parade is a New Year's Eve tradition.

The number of people lining the Rose Parade route in Pasadena varies from 700,000 to about 1,000,000 along the 6-mile route. The city of 145,000 is transformed into what looks like a giant swap meet along its busiest street- Colorado Boulevard. During New Year's Eve, campers are allowed to have their chairs and equipment to the edge of the sidewalk but at least one person has to remain with them. Parade-goers walk to and from the restaurants and coffee shops along Colorado taking turns as sentinels of their area and bringing food and drinks back to their claimed temporary world.

Settling In
The rows and rows of bleachers that pop up in town starting around Thanksgiving remain stark and empty as they await spectators who paid for the right to sit in them during the parade. Last year, my daughter, a high school freshman, and her friends decided they wanted to camp along the route. I agreed to keep them company. We got our ski jackets, snow suits, taped our names on chairs and gathered up Chex Mix, hot chocolate, coffee, games and loaded the loot into our van and drove the 2 miles from our house to an easily accessible part of the route. I drove to within 3 blocks of Colorado Blvd where we carried our bundles to Colorado and Hill, across from Pasadena City College.

The late afternoon sun was already lowering and the lights glowing from the Jack in the Box and Carl's Jr. restaurants behind us with the street lamps above guided us as we nudged our way next to a family who had thick blankets spread near a trash can. We set up our lawn chairs, got out games and started chatting away. It was dinner time. Flames from portable stoves up and down the streets rose a few feet into the air. Occasional blasts from air horns rose above the cars passing along honking their horns. Kids sitting on the sidewalk filled paper plates with shaving cream to toss at the cars and pick-up trucks. Cans of silly string were shot and draped over the parade-goers.

A Festive Evening
Bands played behind the fast-food restaurants in parking lots with face painting and games sponsored by the local churches. Packs of people, often in 3s and 4s, walked together up and down the streets yelling out "Happy New Year" and often laughing loudly. Pasadena's motorcycle police are always present on the street and officers with the Los Angeles County Sherriff's department stroll through the crowds. The deputies are usually quite pleasant, acknowledging the kids, parents and well-wishers. For as large as the event is, there are normally fewer than 500 people taken into custody for drunkenness or disorderly conduct.
To me, the most amazing transformation is the Ford dealership at the intersection. All the cars are driven off the lot the day before and the parking lot, like so many other parking lots, become filled with over-sized RVs - usually from the out-of-town fans of the team visiting for the Rose Bowl game.

As the evening wears on, parade-goers anticipate midnight because that's when they can move chairs and sleeping bags 3 feet out from the curb to the blue-line that's visible on the street year 'round. The blue line marks the farthest point into the street where spectators can safely watch and not interfere with the floats and bands. The transition is normally orderly with few arguments over who can sit where. Neighbors are often cordial and help each other in the one-yard rush to the gutter.

After Midnight
Every moment is filled during the evening hours but shortly after midnight, weariness starts to settle in. Last year, my daughter and her friends decided to sleep around 12:30. I dozed off while sitting in one chair with my feet stretched across on another chair. An uneasy quiet settles over the once noisy crowd. Two of the girls went to buy another hot chocolate. Then, my daughter woke me up. "I've got to go to the bathroom," she said. "Can you walk me across the street?"
A long line of portable toilets runs south along Hill Avenue below the Chevron station. I groggily agreed and then noticed the chill creeping through my bones as I moved my legs to stand. No matter how sunny it is for the parade, and even when the temperatures reach into the upper 60s, sitting in a lawn chair on the cement is a cold experience. Nighttime lows dip into the upper 30s with a light fog and marine layer coming in off the ocean to cast a cold halo on the lamps. Even though I'm an avid hiker in the mountains and I've camped in the snow, nothing can prepare you for the deep, inner chill that most homeless people experience nightly.

We waited her turn to step into the stall and I stood next to an older gentleman who was adding logs to his stove fire. The heat felt so good and then she stepped out and closed the door behind her. I nodded a thank-you to my distant neighbor for letting me warm myself. Even though he was camped across the street, he was next to the restrooms and he had warmth. I visited him and the restrooms at least 3 more times before sunrise.

Dawn's Early Light
As the first rays of light stretched their fingers from the east, and the last chills of the night stuck in me, I thought "this is definitely the last time I sleep overnight on the parade route." As the sun starts rising, the air brakes of busses hiss as spectators make their way off and into the bleachers they have reserved. More parade-goers who slept in their own beds wind their way through the streets and stand behind those who have settled into their chairs. Vendors selling cotton candy, t-shirts, Rose Parade programs and cameras shout out as this great American spectacle gets ready to kick-off for yet another year.

Eventually, when my wife makes her way through the crowd and into the seats I've reserved, along with a few friends and a couple of our other kids, I begin to perk up. As the time draws closer to 8am, a gasp fills the air as people look up to see a stealth bomber fly low marking the parade's beginning. It then climbs steeply into the air past the morning sun letting off a roar and inspiring cheers from the crowd. A new year has begun and when the first band's music is heard a few blocks away, I'm glad I once again participated in my own small way.