Speaking of the Forks...

Remember I was telling you about the Celtic Parade the other day? I saved the best for last or for later (Okay, truthfully, I was really, really busy this weekend what with the festival, company and cookie booths so I didn’t actually have a chance to sit down at the computer to write. Don’t judge. It happens even to the best of us or the laziest – I’m both so I get extra credit).

My town loves to celebrate. On any given weekend there is some kind of festival or gathering or reenactment (seriously, pirates take over our town almost daily). A Celtic festival the weekend before St. Patrick’s day seems a rather odd occurrence but given this way we get to celebrate Irish, Scottish, Welsh, Vikings (there was a Viking, I’m sure of it).

The parade started off a typical, regular parade. Lots of green, lots of marching bands, lots of bagpipes and kilts. And then this:

That, my friends, is a squadron of Storm Troopers, in kilts, escorting Darth Vader also in a kilt, along the parade route.

Ashleigh, Cyra and I squeed in shock, delight, amazement – every good adjective out there that we could possibly squee in, we squeed! As they walked past, I snapped as many photos as my broken little camera would allow. The rest of the parade was anticlimactic in comparison.

As the parade finished, the girls and I began walking toward the town field where all the cool festivals are held. Low and behold, as we approached we realized that the head of the parade was just starting to round the corner back onto the street in front of us.

On this side of the parade the crowds were already dispersed and the parade walkers were starting to slow down and straggle.

“Let’s watch it again,” I said to the girls.

The both frowned at me.

“I want to get better pictures of the Storm Troopers.”

That immediately gained approval and we once again positioned ourselves along the street. And then my friends, I can only say that I will probably go down in history of town parades for the actions I then took.

The squadron of Storm Troopers rounded the corner and approached. And I noticed what I hadn't the first time around: Dark Helmet!

As the Storm Troopers drew nearer, I shoved Cyra out in front of three or four of them, jumped into the middle of the street and begged for a photo. They happily complied.

Then Darth Vader came. Once again, I pushed Cyra out into the street. The few spectators lining the street nearby laughed at my antics but I got a photo.

Then came Boba Fett and another picture.

By this time Ashleigh was laughing so hard she could barely breath but she gasped out, “I should have jumped in there with Cyra!”

(On a side note – Ashleigh has hated getting pictures taken with people dressed up in characters since she could walk. I’ve learned not to ask anymore.)

“What?” I said. “Let’s go.”

My friends, we chased – CHASED – the squadron down the street. As soon as we got close enough Cyra screamed for Darth Vader to stop for another photo. I shoved the girls into the street once again and snapped two quick photos with Vader. At that point, the Celtic Princess Leia told us that they would all be at the festival and we should look for them there.

 At the festival we ran into the same three Storm Troopers that stopped to take a picture with Cyra and they posed for another set of photos with both girls. Sadly, Vader had already doffed his costume, but my day had already been made 100 times over!