Chiefs Parade
Leading up to Super Bowl LVIII, I’d find myself knocking on wood before even mentioning the parade we may or may not have. My fiancé and I decided to attend with a couple of her friends, one of whom lives in a downtown loft apartment where we met up.
After eating donuts and reminiscing on the contrasts of last year’s parade, we headed down to Grand Ave around 10am. Droves of people, many carrying open containers, signified they were enjoying their mid-week day off to the fullest… even if it meant a noon hour hangover. We grabbed coffee in some corner cafe and headed into the red sea. A little ways down from 11th Street seemed sufficient to watch the parade, as the crowd seemed to densely congregate at each Grand Ave. intersection.
Standing there for an hour, we people watched, took pics, you know the drill. Hearing casual expletives and actively trying not to bump into nearby fans who might take it as disrespect, I could’ve been standing in Arrowhead (Ha!). At one point, I read this dude’s text over his shoulder, not because I’m nosey but rather just to see if I could. It said, “I got the stick in the trunk, and a KCPD shirt under [this jersey] in case it go down (laughing emoji).” For those that don’t know, “stick” is a slang term for a long gun. I’m not certain what he was referring to as going down, but one can assume being at a sporting event - a riot? I thought to myself, “how could it get there? how could this turn into needing a rifle?”
After about an hour, the parade started. Lots of people we didn’t know went by, signing autographs.
And of course, the players, coaches, owners, families etc. Talk about a great experience, seeing how excited people got when anyone they knew came by. My first parade went pretty well and I couldn’t wait to share my pics to friends and family ASAP.
The parade wrapped up and we made our way back to the loft apartment to watch the subsequent rally on TV. Maybe it’s just me, but the general consensus is that you attend the parade OR the rally, it’s just too much of a logistical nightmare to do both.
The rally at Union Station went about as expected, lots of peacocking from the owners/managers, and then a few short minutes of long awaited talking from the (rightfully) inebriated star players. The rally ended about 1:45p or so, my phone was dead and we were getting ready to leave. To check the time, I looked at the microwave’s display which read 1:50. “Is that how much time is left on the microwave or is that the actual time?” I thought. It was the actual time, and little did I know, it was the exact moment shooting had erupted at the rally 11 blocks south.
We made our way down to the parking garage, and heard blaring sirens from seemingly all directions. Granted, parking garage’s echo. My fiancé mentioned something about it, “Wow that’s a lot of sirens!”, but I thought to myself, “I bet they always blare them so they don’t have to sit in traffic.”
Driving down I-35, passing Union Station, and all the cars parked every which way they could find a place, I noticed several ambulances weaving their way from the south on the west side of the WW1 museum’s grassy hill. A couple minutes later, my brother sent me a news article screenshot and a text saying “You guys okay?.” That was the moment I had realized our great experience had been enveloped in darkness like a dark storm cloud. How could we still be joyful after that? How could we ignore the breaking details and just be happy with our own version of the event? It felt ruined… stained, as if we should’ve just stayed home.
One thing I’ve taken away from the Chiefs parade shooting is that every tragic event has its ripple effect. Those who are changed by it, those who aren't, and then the degree to which change occurs. So many shootings I’ve been privy to, but never one in my own square. Of course, I was 11 blocks away and well out of range for this one, but the fact that I could’ve been there sort of haunts me. I'm sure teachers across the country feel this same way when one happens in a school. It’s that feeling of familiarity that can change the way we take it. Maybe it’s one of the last ripples of the ‘effect,’ but a ripple nonethless. Pride and beliefs aside, I’d imagine my view on gun accessibility would change quite tremendously had I witnessed first hand or became a victim myself, but maybe it still has changed in some way. Maybe we don’t need to get shot at for our minds to change.