The parade invasion

We didn’t know which way the depot was, only that we had to get there and take a transfer. Our eyes were peeled towards the store signs screaming at us in Korean, confusing our count of how far we’d gone and where we were headed.

The wheels spun past a street filled with shoes on pavement. Hit the button, she told me, so I did and we got off and walked towards the chaos. All along Rodeo Street were vendors boasting craft supplies and kids with glue and scissors.

We’d stumbled upon some sort of children’s festival, complete with costumes and a marching band, a parade to celebrate warm weather. I bought chicken for fifty cents and we walked towards the drummers. We watched them idle for a while; got bored and took off towards the other end of the fest.

The tents seemed to stretch on forever, new sketches and pamphlets and stations to fold paper into blow-up boxes undying. Finally we turned down towards the water, found a ferry and set out on our search for the fish market.

The water reflected the falling sun, so to it we said, on to the next adventure.