Living in Texas, I don’t have many stars stopping by the area except for the cast of ‘Prison Break’, and the Police Officers/stars of ‘Dallas SWAT’ (which I’ve seen multiple times in the Campisi’s restauraunt downtown). Oh, and I saw Peter MacNichol (Ally McBeal’s “Biscuit”) at the Greenville Whole Foods once. Anyway, so we don’t get many stars down here, but as luck would have it, I happened to sort-of kind-of be in the vicinity of the Northwestern University Homecoming parade last weekend. It was only a three hour drive from where we were staying on our vacation in the Wisconsin Dells, so after some begging and pleading and flashing the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen, I was able to persuade my better half into driving down to Evanston for the parade.
We first stopped at Old Navy to stock up on warm weather gear. We were sporting brand new coats and figured it would be best if we had some earmuffs and scarves to keep us warm if we were going to be outside for an extended length of time. It was super cold in Wisconsin – about 45 degrees during the day – so we figured it would be equally as cold in Chicago, a mere 2 1/2 hours away, especially after the sun went down. Um, no. It was 65 degrees. We didn’t even need our coats, just a fleece top. But I digress.
Did any of you know that I-90 going into Chicago is not only a toll road of mammoth proportions, but also sucks balls? We got out our MapPoint map and figured if we left Madison around 4p, we could easily be in Evanston by 6:30p, giving us plenty of time to find a parking spot and stake out a good vantage point towards the end of the parade.
Because I-90 was so clogged, we didn’t get onto campus until about 7:50p or so. By an amazing stroke of luck, we were able to find a parking spot just one block off of the road where the parade was taking place, and one block away from the end of the parade. Success! We hunkered down outside some cool looking old dorms, and waited.
And then I realized I forgot my camera. A quick mad dash to the car and back by my sweetie, and we were back on track. We hunkered down and waited.
We saw the band go by (playing an old drum cadance from my youth, which at Greenville High School we called “Spider”), and then a sad little car with some guy no one gave a rat’s ass about. The anticipation was building. The students outside the dorm were giddy with excitement, and I was also rather nervous about getting to see what could best be described as … well, as frikkin’ Stephen Tyrone Colbert.
And then I saw it. A very small car with a teeny tiny little purple man was coming down the road. But what made this car seem so tiny is the fact that along both sides of the road, all three lanes and all of the sidewalk, was this wall of people – girls screaming, people cheering, guys yelling support, hundreds of people all following this modern-day Pied Piper as he drove down the rode in his convertable.
As Colbert’s car drove by, I was able to get within a few feet of it. He was waving his arms high, triumphantly yelling, “My people! You are my people!” I got caught up in the tidal wave of enthusiastic fans as the car drove by. I walked along with the crowd for about a block, and as the car turned onto what was the street after the parade was technically over, the car picked up speed. But, like steel to a magnet, the crowd refused to abandon their leader. Dozens of people (not me, I’m old, but I could see it) chased after the car for a block, literally bowling over the now impotent security force. I heard that Stephen got away safely from people walking back from the craziness, but for a moment there I honestly feared for his safety. It was like a scene out of a Beatles movie, a mob chasing after the object of their affection.
Was it worth a six-hour round trip ride, with no pictures that came out, to be able to go to the parade and see him for only a few minutes? Hell. Yes.
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