Hippies and Band Uniforms

I should have slept in Scotts Valley last night.

This morning around 6 am they were out cleaning the streets. Namely, my street. There were tow trucks, there were street sweeper trucks, there were trash trucks…. Basically for about 45 minutes there was a parade of loud beeping trucks with flashing lights right outside my bedroom window.

Then at 7, the bands began to arrive. I am not sure how many there are total, but it is now 1145 and they are still coming… rows upon rows of high school marching bands. This part of SC is apparently the staging area for some big competition.

Yes, high school marching bands.

With the whistles and the drums and the yelling and the annoying sidelined parents and the costumes and the general high school-ness of it all. And the whistles. And the drums.

Outside my windows.

The cat is in a mild permanent state of frantic freak out and I keep finding excuses to leave the apartment. I took clothes over to Good Will to donate. I took a box of books to sell to Logos. (What they don’t want, I’ll donate to the library.) I went to the post office and mailed a copy of my book to John S. (winner of the drawing). Really though, I need to be home cleaning, writing, reading, watching Supernatural, and such and it is hard to do that with the incredibly loud bands out there.

Anyway, on my walk back from the post office I ended up walking behind a woman with her two little girls (around age 5). The little girls were pretty cute; one was carrying a big water bottle, the other a rolled up newspaper. As they neared the corner, the newspaper girl veered away from her mother and stopped in the shade of a shop’s awning. She put the newspaper down on the sidewalk and then hurried to catch up with her mom and sister.

“I don’t want it.” She informed her mother.
“Oh, ok, glad we bothered to carry it around all morning.” Her mother replied.

“Hey!” This from me, the unnoticed interloper, “Excuse me!”

The mother turns around. I continue; “Are you just going to let her leave that there on the ground?”

The mother shrugs and turns away.

“Hey!! That’s littering!” Me again, my voice getting louder because I have stoped next to the offending newspaper and they have continued on. “There’s a trash can right over there! Excuse me!”

The mother turns back, the little girls are slowing downa dn looking behind at me, eyes wide. “Stop yelling at my kids! If you care that much, pick it up yourself!”

She grabs the hands of both girls and the one with the water bottle starts to cry as she is pulled roughly down the street.

“Mommy, owww… why is that lady mad/”

“Ignore her.” says the mother, “She’s just a dirty hippy. Come on!”

Dirty hippy my ass, I should have thrown it at her head. Ii didn’t.
I did and pick it up and throw it away. Not because I am a hippy, dirty or otherwise, but because I am a local and I am a decent sort of person.

Then I finished the walk back to my apartment to try to enjoy the starts and stops of random marching songs and comfort my cat.

Ahhh life in a small, beach, college, tourist town….

Published by kayliametcalfe

Queer,loudmouth,skeptical-agnostic-pagan,book addict,coffee lover,wine drinker, SAHM,writer,editor,producer,podcaster. -She/her

4 thoughts on “Hippies and Band Uniforms

  1. I'm still stunned when I see crap like that happen. I actually have a telephone number you're supposed to call to report a litterer on the road. You give them the plate number. I don't know what they do with the info but it feels good to report the creeps!


  2. Not littering does not make you a dirty hippy! Throwing trash on teh ground annoys me so much – esp since you said there was a trash can right there. Grrrrr


  3. A hippie? Is this woman a Commie Pinko? I mean, what are we, in the 60s again?What a pig (not the 60s meaning of pig, the regular meaning of pig). And now she's raising two little piglets who could go on to have piglets of their own and on and on…I hope the little girls somehow grow a conscience.


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