parade

On the Saturday after the new year, Chinatown hosts an annual parade. The list of sponsors and participants is bewildering, encompassing airlines and high school spirit teams, local dojos and multinational banks. McDonald's boasts a block-long procession of Asian teenagers, twirling the famous yellow-on-red flag in unison. Visa sponsors a large float, with a spinning umbrella plastered with pictures of vacations and credit cards. A few high-school marching bands high-step down the streets behind them. Several have settled on instrumental renditions of "Eye of the Tiger", in honor of the zodiac year.

A Chinese father leads his young daughter to the front of the crowds standing on the curb. The Visa float is throwing candy towards them. She scampers up to a few pieces that have landed in front of her, grabs and shoves them into the pockets in the front of her dress. She shows her winnings to her father and offers him a wrapped peppermint. He pops it into his mouth, does something complicated with his teeth and tongue, and pushes the wrapper out with his lips. He grins and pats his daughter on the head. She is chewing on a candy of her own, laughing.

A few paper-mâché warriors are striding toward them now, standing about a head above the crowds on the curbs. "Stay here," her father mouths and runs towards the them, gripping his camera. He kneels to get a better shot, and she loses sight of him in the crowd.

Black-shirted organizers scatter Chinese firecrackers on the pavement in front of them. The red cylinders tumble and pop, throwing off sparks and small clouds of smoke. A stray flap rolls towards the girl, bounces off her fingers. She draws her hand away, startled but unharmed. The firecrackers' heat dissipates quickly in the night.

A few rockets stream into the sky -- real American fireworks with real explosions, she thinks, big and bright and glorious. The faces of the people around her are illuminated briefly, flashes of red scarves and golden hair, ivory white smiles. The parade is over now, she knows, and the crowd is moving past her, disappearing into buses and subways and parking garages. She sits on the curb and watches the smoke drift into nonexistence, waiting patiently for her father to return.