By Eric Mally

It was the stuff that dreams are made of.  Who hasn’t wanted to wake up at 5:15 AM on Thanksgiving Day, dress up as a clown, and march 2 ½ miles holding on to a 40-foot balloon in front of thousands of people during America’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in Downtown Detroit?

Alright, maybe my dreams differ slightly from yours, but nonetheless, I can successfully cross another item off of my bucket list.

The day started off bright and early (did I mention that we had to wake up at 5:15 AM yet?) and becoming clownified commenced.  We were all suited up and headed over to make-up to get our faces painted, where we were greeted by volunteers who were way too chipper so early in the morning.

The shuttle took us to the top of the parade route where we patiently waited for the call from our “balloon captain” to start marching.

And march we did, all 2 ½ miles down Woodward Avenue with the wind blowing and the fans cheering.

I’d be lying to you if I said walking in front of tens of thousands of people was not intimidating.  What if I tripped and fell?  What if this massive balloon lifted me airborne?  OK, maybe the last one wasn’t a legitimate worry for me – I’m a pretty big dude – but it was a concern for some of my fellow team members.

Luckily, no one went airborne, but there were some close calls.

As we marched, we quickly learned that spectators of America’s Thanksgiving Parade have some sort of fascination with spinning the balloon.  Everywhere we went, we were showered with chants of “Spin it! Spin it! Spin it!” from all angles.

So, we spun it.  Over and over and over again.

Spinning the balloon may or may not look easy on TV, but let me tell you, it is awfully difficult.  You have to take in multiple x-factors:  the wind.  the trees, the buildings, and the people. 

The last thing you need is a 40-foot clown going into the crowd of spectators.

I will never understand the spectator’s captivation of spinning the balloon.  I asked my brother who was in the crowd if it even looked somewhat cool, to which he replied with my same sentiments: “I don’t know, dude.  It was nothing to write home about.”

But, we were at the beck and call of the people and happily obliged with our smiles painted on our faces.

When all was said and done, it was a really cool experience.  The kids loved it.  The team members, for the most part, loved it.

Aside from my aching arms and fatigue, I loved it, too. And my mom has never been more proud of me.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

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