Gasparilla

The ocean glimmered, reflecting the faint pink hue of the new rays of dawn. The sun rose over the port of Tampa, greeting thick clouds of smoke and chaos. Shops and homes were burned to the ground or reduced to rubble. Bodies lined the street of innocent Tampa residents who sought to flea their homes as the call of "Pirates" echoed throughout the city in the pre-dawn hours. Still trolling through the streets, through the thinning smoke and the thick smell of blood and death were the pirates, the crew under the command of Jose Gaspar. Jose Gaspar, the man, the pirate, who invaded Tampa. Or, at least that is how the story goes.

Our friends, Kim and Will, in typical Gasparilla Garb.

Every year in late January, early February, the city of Tampa congregates along Bayshore to celebrate the historic--and yet entirely fictional--event of Gaspar's pirate invasion of the town. Early in the morning, all the boats of Tampa sail out into the bay and then sail back in for The Invasion. Supposedly (for I have never actually witnessed the invasion, it is much too early for my liking), there are reenactments of ship battles and fights between the shopkeepers and the pirates. The area president of Wells Fargo, for example, partook in The Invasion, taking over his own bank! That is how Gasparilla, Tampa's annual tradition that looks a bit like a pirate Mardi Gras, starts.

Dave and Hector enjoying post-gasparilla brunch

Elysia and Kristen at Cicio's Cali.

This year, we were blessed to have many friends visit us for Gasparilla. Kim's friends from home Aimee, and Elysia and Hector came down and stayed with her, while our newest couple friends Kristen and Dave stayed with me. The morning of Gasparilla, we all prepared ourselves, applying eyeliner, dawning pirate costumes of varying degrees of authenticity, and making pacts to make it to the parade this year! Kim's house is a short walk from Bayshore so we host a get-together for our friends there before the parade. Many friends (and some strangers) joined us in celebrating this year. At some point during the day, we made friends with the next-door neighbors who share a fence with Kim (think Wilson from Home Improvement). This young couple had two friends over who were dressed as if they were attending the Renaissance Festival. That said, the homeowners were super friendly offering to share dessert-drinks with some of us, and even gave me a meatball sub to eat because I mentioned that they smelled delectable!

A little before two, we meandered down to Bayshore to watch the parade. Floats filled with pirates, who are actually some of Tampa's most elite citizens, passed by as the crowds cheered and begged for beads. Some people even brought lacrosse sticks to maximize their bead-catching abilities. As the parade began to wind down, we trickled back toward Kim's house. I had one job: "Don't Lose Aimee." When we get to Kim's house, guess who isn't there? Aimee. We had become separated during the departing process and instead of leaving all together, Aimee was left to wander home with some new friends. Aimee arrived at Kim's a mere few minutes after we did, and I avoided the doghouse.

 The rest of the evening was spent playing games and chatting at Kim's as friends came and left. At some point in the night, Kim's cat "Kitty" ran away. A fact, we did not discover for a few days. That emotional rollecoaster of an extravaganza lasted for about a week, as the hunt for Kitty went on in vain. Until, one day, Kitty deciding she had had enough of the streets, longing for the lap of luxury she was used to, hunkered down in the cat trap we had set up on Kim's front porch (complete with Kitty's favorite blanket and calming cat pheromones).

Kim and Aimee at Cicio's post-Gasparilla.

Alas, all great things must come to an end, even Gasparilla. And all great things must have their appropriate endings. Every year, we have a post-Gasparilla brunch at Cicio's Cali in North Tampa. Their bowls are delicious, the live music is always outstanding, and it feels like it's healthy (or at least healthier than the alternatives).

All in all, this was a rather entertaining, yet tame Gasparilla. Previous years saw strangers attempting to crawl into Kim's car through her passenger window as we drove through the crowded streets, insisting we take them home. That is, until we started rolling the window up on them. Or friends locking themselves in the bathroom for multiple hours. Shenanigans. But, what can you expect for a holiday designed to celebrate the day a fake pirate supposedly took over your city?