The Mocha Boat Parade

I live in the center of the universe. The exact, actual center. I know some people such as William F. Buckley would dispute this, but it's true. This is why, whenever there's a local festival or event, I make it a special point to attend. Because how many people can claim to have attended the likes of the world-famous annual Mocha Town Persimmon and Truck Flap Festival?

It's a duty, really.

As it happens, I received a special invitation to view Mocha's 73^rd Annual Holiday Yacht Parade from a comfortable and prestigious vantage - one I couldn't pass up, given the accompanying promise of alcohol. We accepted with enthusiasm.

I correct myself. I accepted with enthusiasm. My husband was somewhat less enthusiastic. He apparently lacks the gene that allows him to truly immerse himself in fete or gala which he deems overindulgent on its "lame" quotient.

Okay, I admit, the Yacht Parade *was totally lame, but I enjoyed it. Mostly because of the cartoonish way he was rolling his eyes the whole time at its incredibly colossal comprehensive lameness.  I myself waved like the Queen.

I will attempt to describe said Mocha Extravaganza, so that it may be likewise appreciated by my readers. It shouldn't take too long because, for starters, there were only five boats, only one of which might fall under the "yacht" category. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The headliner was the Local Mocha Paddlewheel Queen, a Mississippi River Wannabe with only two broken paddles. She was festooned with an astonishingly appropriate lace of white lights, and a dozen or so slightly intoxicated passengers singing carols (each in his own key, of course.) I have few complaints about this particular entry, except possibly that it set our expectations a little high, what with the motley handful of floating detritus bringing up the rear.

The next "yacht" was one of those square pontoon boats specifically designed for people without any boat experience or aptitude whatsoever. In fact, I've been on a few of these, and I'm pretty sure the steering wheel (such as it is) is not actually connected to anything below decks, but is merely included for amusement, as the raft tends to meander aimlessly until such time as it plows into the shore, usually when the coolers are empty. This particular example was no exception, sputtering behind its beautiful mother duck in a zig-zagging fashion, narrowly missing moored brethren.

It wouldn't have been so bad if, when signing up for the parade, the captain had realized that an optimum nighttime yacht parade configuration might include a few lights. A glowing cigarette doesn't really count.

Third in line came a testosterone-laden sleek motor cruiser, with a glowing nose. Word has it, the "glow" was a perched figurehead topless "Grinch," but I couldn't answer for sure, since we lacked the foresight to work out a proper sharing schedule for the binoculars. Passengers on this entry were yelling in merry unison "Merry Christmas Mocha!" Only, what with the motors, and the wind, and maybe a passing airplane, it sounded more like "Hairy Fish Nuts, Joke-a." I know, it didn't make much sense to me, either.

The next Yacht was actually a ten-foot motorized canoe with an enormous self-lit inflatable snowman perched amidships, which threatened to take the whole contraption over (stalwart captain and all) with each gust. All sarcasm aside, you have admire that kind of enthusiasm. Not to mention the muscles, as he grabbed a paddle and went to it, to put some additional distance between Frosty and entry number 5.

The caboose. I can't tell you exactly what kind of boat it was, as I was distracted by the explosions. Bow to stern it probably measured 25 feet, which in my book doesn't allow a proper safety buffer for excessive amateur pyrotechnics. But Santa didn't seem to mind - he was hanging off some wire contraption that looked like a giant Christmas tree frame, or possibly a fireworks net. They put on a great show, I'll admit. But I half expected the whole boat (or at least Santa) to catch fire for the finale, and was a little disappointed that they just toodled down the river unscathed.

Sure, it only lasted 11 minutes, but the crowd really went wild. There was much rejoicing (read: eggnog.) And a few prayers that Canoe-Man made it home safely. A prime example of quality Mocha entertainment, if I ever saw one. I think our spot in the universe is safe.

Should you feel inclined to catch Mocha's 74^th Annual Holiday Yacht Parade, all I can tell you is: book early and bring a fire extinguisher. Heck, bring an inner-tube, and you're in.