Yakkie runs with the Parade

[yakalskovich]

This afternoon, I was re-reading (an re-giggling-over) the Great Hairy Monster of the discworld_rpg, the Bad Iconography Contest of 300+ comments, when I noticed some unholy racket outside, like thousands of metal oil barrels being rolled by at once. Being a bit ditzy (thanks for the definition, wiebke!) at the time, I took some minutes to realise it was the St. Patricks Day Parade going by. We have one in Munich, and it's getting bigger and bigger every year.

So I put on some street clothes, grabbed my sunglasses, wallet and käkätin, threw over my Djelibeybian Egyptian woolen plaid/shawl/wrap Falk the Metropolitan had brought me from his jouney, and stormed out, following the noise.

There were marching bands of all descriptions, drums-and-fives from Scotland, an Irish ceili band on the back of an open lorry, enormous amounts of happy people, lampposts being sprayed with green paint, and even a Brazilian street samba school. There was an Irish Folk Dance group with a plethora of little girls in green velvet costumes reminiscent of "Riverdance", a few of them clearly of Japanese extraction. There were part-time Scottish warriors in wild tartans, with shields, swords, long hair and axes, half-Highlander and half-Nac-Mac-Feegle, who spoke German with a Saxonian accent among themselves. Diversity was achieved.-


I ran with the parade, was a bit faster, overtook a marching band of 18th-century soldiers who were hellishly loud with their shrill pipes, overtook the drums-and-fives, and reached the top, where there was some Celebrity Marshall I didn't know in a open white vintage car, and someone dressed as a bishop with a green beard, representing St. Patrick, accompanied by a gigantic Irish Wolfhound.

The parade ended up at the Kultfabrik, a clubbing area in a former factory near where I live, and there were some halls where an Irish-themed party was going on. I got myself some proper Strongbow cider (drinking Guiness at such occasions is so pseudo; I only drink Guiness if I personally feel like it), and there was an Irish folk band from somewhere in the Bavarian boondocks (did I mention that anything Irish has been very trendy with the German alternative and eco scenes for decades, ever since Heinrich Böll's "Irisches Tagebuch"?), and they had some very rough and eclectic music with lots of Rocks In. I had my cider, and then another one, stood on a sort of balcony in the dark hall in the middle of the afternoon, saw some female 18th centure soldiers from that marching band drifting by below me (what a "Monstrous Regiment" sort of moment!), and spontaneously had a good time in RL.

In the midst of that thoughts of that weird part-time French fellow who had been speechifying at me via email (he's a very old friend fallen on somewhat hard times lately) drifted through my head, and the all-too-serious things he had said and said again about politics and terrorism and conspiracies, and  as I looked down on that charming diversity (Samba dancers drinking with wild Saxonian Scots, and Polly-Perks-lookalikes dancing to tunes that owed equal debts to Irish pub music and Russian gypsy bands), I decided, hey look at that, We Are the People, and we're not going to let ourselves be frightened by a bunch of idiots with bombs who hate how we're all getting on rather well in a slightly chaotic and Ankh-Morporkian way.-

I emptied the second glass of Strongbow, decided I had enough, pulled the Dejelibeybian Egyptian shawl that had been hanging over my shoulder in the warmth firmly around me again, and cheerfully went home to do the laundry, working through the Name Meme everybody has been doing in my mind as I went.




If you call me...

Martina, you are most people
Frau Pachali, you are some work associate, distant colleague, or customer
Yakkie or PY, you're a friend either from WorldsAway or the Wraeththuites
Raspers, you might be Maria (she hasn't, lately, since I was "unmasked")
Teppic or Lady Margolotta, you're another member of the discworld_rpg, and we're in character, and playing
specifically, if you call me
Margo, you are Otto Chriek (in character)
Lady Margo, you are Tez (ditto)
Tepp, you are Chidder (ditto)

furthermore, if you call me...
ex-Aldi or ex-Thiede, you're a good old friend from WorldsAway who knew my former avatars
Vampy, you are the Nazgul, we are inworld, and you are talking to my present Lady Margolotta avatar. And I am calling you Kätzchen ("kitten"), because that is what your avatar is at the moment.
maru, you are Stephan the japanologist, my old uni friend Michael,  or one of my favourite colleagues (but talking to me by email, in the last case)
Schwesterchen ("little sister"), you are my younger but taller sister, Sphinx
Mausi or Süߟe, you're the Metropolitan Falk, who's a bit perverse in what nicknames he calls people



I have decided to listen to Irish music for the rest of the evening and will try to get a move on with re-reading "Pyramids", breaking off occasionally to do the effin' laundry. And if there are pictures in the online newspapers of the Parade tomorrow, I'll post links.