I was one of a quarter million who braved the scorching Texas sun to go to the Mavericks parade. Crazy? Perhaps.
But the event drew fans like honey. Dallasites young and old swallowed car exhaust and sunrays in hopes of catching a glimpse of the NBA’s conquering heroes. My mom, cousin and I arrived two and half hours early and nabbed front row seats to the action.
After gathering a morning’s worth of evidence, I would like to propose that “like a kid at a parade,” be added next to “like a kid in the candy store,” in the world’s book of analogies. Being trapped in a crowd of standing adults sounds like the makings of childhood nightmare. Oh contrare. Their tiny sizes are all access passes to the best seats in the house.
