Columnist Susan Synder: A parade of reasons to celebrate

Susan Synder

Thursday, May 12, 2005 | 8:14 a.m.

The coolest part of Saturday's Helldorado parade is us.

You know, the residents. Local schmos -- not megaresort moguls -- are behind the floats, bands and marching units.

Not that it would be bad if the casinos dolled up a few flatbeds for the event. Quite the contrary. Nobody creates whiz-bang, glitzy facades like our casinos.

It seems rare in this burgeoning valley of 1.7 million for anything to be truly community based. Most of our big festivals and parades typically have a corporate casino or developer behind them.

However, the bulk of the 5,000 people to ride, march, dance or pedal down Fourth Street in the resurrected Helldorado procession aren't solely the usual professional performers and planners. Most are regular people like us.

Now that's a parade.

Many participants marched in years past as members of school drill teams or bands. Others will be participating for the first time, as members of community groups.

As a first-timer marching in the Nevada Senior Games unit, I'm as giddy as a teenager. I can't remember looking forward to anything this much.

I can recall the last two parades in which I marched, the most recent being a Boulder City Fourth of July procession. This hilariously fun affair is more of a rolling water fight than a parade.

After being bombarded by water balloons from the crowd for six blocks, we turned the corner and were greeted by a group of families who stood on either side of the road with garden hoses running and waiting.

And years ago, I marched in the annual Tampa, Fla., Gasparilla Parade as a member of Ye Mystic Krewe of Grace O'Malley -- the explanation of which makes far more sense after about five mimosas (the drink, not the tree).

By the time we lined up in our 19th-century hoop-skirted dresses, we discovered the perils of a morning fortified by orange juice and champagne. Hoops and portable toilets are not from the same era for a reason.

Gasparilla tradition called for throwing beads to the crowd, and the language used by children who felt marchers were stingy with their baubles would have made Penn Jillette blush. You'd have thought we were throwing bread during the French Revolution.

But the best parades are ones that travel on the backs of the people, whose creativity and sense of commitment to their community -- however frivolous and of-the-moment it seems -- are the linchpins holding it all together.

And Helldorado, with its Red Hat Societies, Sons of Italy, retired Las Vegas High School Rhythmettes and 4-H clubs, wouldn't exist without residents' support.

Just about anyone who wanted to march had the chance to gather their group or friends and do so. Those who watch undoubtedly will know and be looking for friends and family members in the historic procession.

In a town where inside access is all about who you know, being an insider for the Helldorado parade was open to everyone.

Maybe Las Vegas isn't the apathetic, transient-saturated community we're always being led to believe it is.

And that alone is cause for a parade.