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| This Week with The Chicowitz: |
| Each week our Boomer-In-Charge, Hershel Chicowitz, has something to say about life, society, or what's going on... from the perspective of a baby boomer. This is what's on his mind the week of January 29: |
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Dateline, Tampa Bay, January 28, 2001...
OK, everybody... here we are, at the site of Super Bowl XXXV!
Yep, Super Bowl XXXV was right here in my back yard on Sunday. You all know the score; you all saw the game. (Was it me, or were both the game AND the commercials a little disappointing this year?) But, as Paul Harvey says, in a moment, you're going to hear... the rest of the story.
| Tampa Bay (a sprawling collection of cities including Tampa, St. Petersburg, Clearwater, Bradenton, Sarasota, and half a dozen others) landed the big enchilada again. The price this time was a brand new stadium, paid for by the local taxpayers... a stadium which we needed like O. J. Simpson needs another felony arrest. (That's the new stadium in front, and the Big Sombrero in the background before it was razed.) |
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I get excited about pro football about the time of the playoffs each December. So I watched with interest and then disappointment as my Tampa Bay Bucs folded in the first round last month. Tampa Bay is just not ready for the bigtime. We have been struggling for 30 years; but we're no closer now than we were when I moved here in the 70's. (The Tampa Bucs is the team that let Trent Dilfer go last year because they thought he couldn't cut it. Yep, the same Trent Dilfer who won the Super Bowl on Sunday. Not to mention our dismissal of Super Bowl QB's Doug Williams, Chris Chandler, and Steve Young.... oh yeah, and Vinnie Testaverde.) Anyway, it is supposed to be an honor and wonderful experience to host the Super Bowl. Well, we Tampans have our own unique way of doing it.
Tampa Bay has one major thing in its favor that puts it way ahead of other contending cities such as Boston, Buffalo, Cleveland, and Chicago - the sun. I know; I spent 18 winters in Cleveland. You folks up there do not have any sun in the winter months; that is a 60-watt light bulb hanging up in the sky just to keep you all from rioting in the darkness. It is hardly the right climate for the Super Bowl. So we have the sun; that is one thing the local pols have not been able to mess up. And of course, Busch Gardens. We have beer, too. Lots of beer.
The first thing that visitors heard as they got off the plane at the airport was not "Welcome to the home of Super Bowl XXXV," or "Enjoy your visit to Tampa Bay." It was "Please adhere to the six-foot rule." You see, the Tampa City Council recently passed a law requiring exotic dancers to remain at least six feet away from their customers in our fine gentlemen's clubs. (We used to call them "lap dancers," but nobody has a lap that big.) Anyway, in its desire to show its cajones (ironic, isn't it?), the city council decided to make a big deal out of enforcement of the law during this particular weekend. And the result was... exactly what you might imagine. Even Regis Philbin was laughing at us last week.
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Aside from the new stadium, Tampa Bay lured the game here by moving its world-class, annual cultural event from mid-February to the weekend of the Super Bowl. Gasparilla Day is the official celebration of Jose Gaspar, a mythical pirate who allegedly raped and pillaged around the waters surrounding Florida in the good old days. (Gasparilla is like Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but without the class or dignity.) To honor fictitious Jose's memory, a bunch of middle-aged, fat guys (baby boomers, need I remind you) dress up like pirates, paint their faces, drink themselves stupid (and I do mean stupid), and ride around the bay in a replica sailing ship of the 1700's hollering, spitting, and... doing other stuff that pirates supposedly did. "Ey, Matey; shiver me timbers!" |
Until recently, the pirates actually invaded city hall, hoisted the mayor over their shoulders and carried him off to their ship as a sign of total victory. (In point of fact, this was just a way to get the mayor out of his office and onto the boat where he, too, could rape and pillage, in full view of his subjects. Whew! Now there's a job tailor-made for our ex-president, huh?) The most notable accomplishment of Tampa's first female mayor, the honorable Sandy Friedman, was to put an end to that particular aspect of the festivities. Tough luck, Bill.
"Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of Coors Light."
| After about three hours of the pillaging, the pirates come ashore and lead a parade through downtown Tampa. The major feature of this event (aside from the continuation of the drinking and spitting) is the beads that the pirates throw to eager parade watchers. Necklace beads... you know, nickel and dime trinkets... the kind of things you find thrown on the floor at K-Mart the day after Halloween. Yep, every year the city pays about a half million dollars for three tons of these things. Foolish, you say? Well, not so fast, you ignorant land lubber, you. You would not believe what the local parade-goers will do for a set of these beads! I have seen grown men and old ladies reach out and grab them out of the hands of young chil'un, leaving them crying on the curb. So while it may seem silly to you, this is serious business to us sophisticated locals. Otherwise sane and reasonable people wear those beads to work the following day and, like kids at Halloween, compare the size of their stash to that of their colleagues. |
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There was an article in the paper last week that cast a shadow over our special event. The reporter noted that in the past women had been seen hoisting their shirts up over their..... shoulders in order to attract the attention of a drunken pirate with a handful of beads... hardly befitting the place that calls itself "America's next great city." But I swear, in the same article, the author commented that Hugh Hefner planned to bring a couple boats up the gulf for the weekend, and that he and his guests might be offended at such a display of rowdiness and debauchery. America's next great city, perhaps; but surely not the home of America's next great journalists, to be sure.
I decided to plunge into the festivities enthusiastically. Oh no, I did not actually go to the game. Nobody goes to the game; NOBODY! It's all a big charade. All the fans and the crowd sounds are filled in weeks ahead of the game by the Hollywood folks. Smoke and mirrors, dontcha' know. Lemme tell you, as a guy who has watched three Super Bowls in his hometown, I can tell you, NOBODY actually goes to the game! (This year, they were all busy showing off their beads to their neighbors.)
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No, the highlight for me was going to be watching the live broadcast of my idol, radio personality Don Imus, on his "Imus in the Morning" radio show. Imus was headquartered at the posh Innisbrook Westin Hotel and Resort in Palm Harbor; he broadcast from there on Thursday and Friday mornings. I got up early Friday and drove over there before the sun rose. I was so excited! I have been listening to Imus since he was on WDOK in Cleveland in 1969. |
....Never made it past the first security checkpoint. Turned away at the front gate. Apparently the live audience for his show is all smoke and mirrors, too - or at least it's an audience way above my position on the social totem pole. So much for my big Super Bowl thrill. I went straight home and pouted right through to Sunday afternoon. I did get to see the Budweiser blimp take off from a nearby airport, though. I'll have some pictures as soon as I can figure out how to download them from my digital camera. (Don't hold your breath.)
So I missed the pirate invasion; I missed Hugh Hefner and his guests; I missed Britney Spears; I missed the whole enchilada. I am left to sing the same, sad song as my favorite football team: "Wait till next time!"
Hey, has somebody got a set of beads I could have? Please! I feel so naked!
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We're open to offerings from visitors to BBHQ. If you have something to say of interest to boomers, write it as well as you can in 800 - 1,000 words, and send it to us. We can't guarantee we'll publish it, but we'll surely consider it.
Hershel will have something else to say on February 5; mark your calendar
to
remind you to come back to BBHQ every Monday.If you like what we're doing here at BBHQ, please help us by buying stuff through our link to Amazon.com:
| The BBHQ Album of the Month is "Old Friends Live on Stage (Deluxe Edition) (2 CD/1 DVD)," by Simon & Garfunkel. If you were fortunate enough to see them in concert last year, I do not have to sell you. The concert was terrific! This album collection includes 55 songs, plus their new recording, "Citizen of the Planet," and one of the songs sung by the Everly Brothers during the concert. The DVD was recorded during their concert in Madison Square Garden in 2003. For any S&G fan, this is a must have! But then, you knew that already, didn't you? |
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The BBHQ Book of the Month is
"Vinyl Highway," by
Dee Dee Phelps. You remember her as Dee Dee, of Dick and Dee Dee.
Together, they took a decade long ride on the rock and roll roller
coaster. It was a heck of a ride! Dick Clark, Quincy Jones, the Beach
Boys, Glenn Campbell, Dionne Warwick, Bobby Vinton... Dick and Dee Dee
rubbed shoulders with all of them. This is her "behind the scenes" story.
It's pretty cool.
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