Parade management

The Mermaid Parade was, as advertised, a blast. A celebration of debauchery. I knew I was in for a treat when I got on the F train toward Coney Island and over there in the corner was a group of hairy chested transvestites in mermaid costumes and a topless woman applying body paint. And away we go!

One major disappointment, however, was the organization of the parade itself. As with just about every parade I've ever seen, there were large gaps in the line as one group surged ahead while the group just behind stopped to do some kind of routine (in this case, the slutty Queen Neptune hopping on a piano to sing old Blondie hits and such). Likewise, there would be long stretches of the parade that would pass in relative silence, while in other parts of the parade line a boombox blaring disco tunes would have to compete with the marching band following close behind. And while it was obvious what the giant sperm swimming upstream against the flow of the parade was all about, some of the arrangements were quite oblique.

Which is a great argument, I think, for some enterprising institution of higher education to put together the nation's first School of Parade Management, which can churn out a couple dozen graduates with MSPMs every year to put some order into our nation's parades. What's the optimal distance between groups, the desired length of dance routines, the spacing between musical combos? How about financing these things, and marketing (goodness knows, the marketing opportunities at the Mermaid festival are abundant, and unexploited)? These are some subjects that our country's greatest minds simply must begin to tackle.

And from there it's surely only a matter of time before the nation's liberal arts colleges begin offering majors - then departments! - of Parade Studies, where we examine the socio-politico-religio-economic implications of all these parades. And think of the gender issues!