Gasparilla
Over the last two years I have been sending "The History of Gasparilla" to my non-Tampa friends. It is an evolving document. I thought this year I would share. I bring you:
Gasparilla - A Newcomer's Guide
So you want to come to Gasparilla, but you don't know what "it's all about?"
Well, you've come to the right place. Gasparilla is a Tampa tradition. It's sets us apart from similar cities like, Des Moines, Buffalo, Cincinnati, Milwaukee and other medium sized metropolitan shitholes. Just take a moment and read through this comprehensive guide to our PirateFest (tm) and you'll be marauding this January like an old pro!
First, we begin at the beginning. About a hundred years ago - the great (?) leaders of Tampa thought it would be fun to dress up like pirates, get piss drunk and ride on horseback through the streets of Tampa raising hell and invoking the name of the Great Pirate Jose Gaspar.
Jose Gaspar probably doesn't exist. Who cares? Neither does economic viability in Centro Ybor or Channelside - that doesn't stop our great (?) leaders from believing in them...
Anytime you can let grown men wear eye patches and drink through prohibition - you are on to something. Over the last century, Gasparilla has continued to grow. The celebration truly gained popularity when a formal group known as Ye Mystic Krewe was formed. Still in existence, and with hundreds of dues-paying members, the Krewe is a themed drinking society of wealthy white males who miss their college fraternity. Understandably, they long for the good old days when they could drink grain alcohol, pressure their steady girlfriends to have sloppy, unsatisfying sex with them and then get a blow job from "Kenny" the "kitchen assistant" in the boiler room.
Of course time passes, and this behavior becomes increasingly unacceptable. Today, these same wealthy white males who, just yesterday it seems, were violently grabbing the back of Kenny's head and looking forward to cheating on their chemistry exam, now realize that to increase their Daddy's shareholder's profits and keep their mistresses well stocked in Dolce and blow, they have to hire IT guys from India and black women from Cornell and whoever-the-fuck-that-Mexican-thinks-he-is-he's-just-a-MBA-degree-from-Wharton-away-from-mowing-my-lawn.
Being rich and white just isn't the same anymore.
So as the times- they are a changing - these pirates find solace in spending a few soused hours partaking in the politically incorrect behavior they must keep carefully hidden from society.
Except there is one thing these bloated rich white men cannot resist - the clink, clink, clink of the golden coins. When faced with the economic benefit of allowing everyday people to join in the festivities, the pirates could not resist. Soon plunder and booty became available to all. Soon the Mayor was passing over a key to the city. Soon dressing like a pirate became cache. Soon if you walked more than ten feet in the month of January or February, somebody in Tampa was throwing fucking beads at you.
There are about 30 some odd Krewes now. There are Latin Krewes and Black Krewes and the Krewe of Venus (all debutantes), the Teddy Bear Krewe, the Krewe of People Who Should Mow My Lawn But Paid Us in Excess of $5,000 To Be Here, the Rough Riders, etc. etc. All paying with the clink, clink, clink of gold coin to the bloated rich white male pirates who sit back, smoke an illegal Cuban cigar, drink expensive scotch and piss on your girlfriend. (I'm sorry, you'll never know about it since he gave her a Coach bag, Gucci sunglasses, $500 and an eight ball to stay quiet about it).
I know what you're thinking…. you have to see all this for yourself! Great Gatsby meets Blackbeard meets Fanny Hill? Well, I can't blame you. Who wouldn't want to be a part of this? That's why 400,000 fucking parasites of humanity come by boat, car, foot, and shopping cart (more on that later) to witness and partake in the insanity of Gasparilla.
Festivities occur along the bay on a road called Bayshore Blvd. Home of the longest contiguous sidewalk, Bayshore Blvd. is known for it's striking views of the TECO power plant, Mosaic gypsum mounds and phosphate factory. The toxic waste belching out of the other side of this body of water is truly breathtaking. Although the inability to draw a proper supply of oxygen may come from the fact that the bay, on a good day, smells like a whore house in a third world country on Two-for-One day, and on a bad day smells like somebody drank a gallon of pig's blood and summarily took a shit on a pile of burning children.
Bayshore is shut down to traffic for the day and the "flotilla" comes in around 1pm. This is a group of approximately 500 boats that come up the Bay with the big pirate ship leading the way. In these 500 boats are a stunning array of haves and have-nots. In the flotilla, you will see boats ranging from yachts to fucking canoes with outboard motors and occupants who wear shirts that say "Let Go of My Ears, I Know What I'm Doing." Clothing tends to be optional in the flotilla. A good rule of thumb is this - the droopier your titties and the fatter your gut - the more you are encouraged to be naked.
The primary pirate ship holds all of the leaders of Tampa, piss drunk, and raising hell. The Mystic Krewe in all of its glory. These guys have been drinking since the night before, and keeping Kenny quiet in the ship's head (no pun intended) with Moon Pies and RC cola. Here they are - our great (?) leaders.
It's a sight to behold. Invasion makes you want to drink to forget your godforsaken place in this world and how life is about as fair as the hooker that sticks her finger in your ass to make you cum faster but still charges you for the full hour.
I digress.
After they land at the Convention Center the Invasion is complete. The Mayor hands the Key to the City over to the Pirates and the debauchery begins. Tampa is a Pirate Town - woo hoo! That's so crazy! Pirates are so cool! Let's all run a train on your mom, just like the Pirates used to do!
After we get done running a train on your mom, we find good spots on Bayshore to watch the parade. This is the official point that everyone begins to get blind drunk and are both entertained and enraged by a non-stop onslaught of drunken Krewes, throwing beads, drinking heavily and making complete idiots out of themselves.
Did I mention we're all drinking? Okay, just wanted to be clear.
Did I mention that Bayshore is home to mulit-million dollar mansions? That's the part that really brings it all home. There is the undeniable comfort in the existence of a karmic wheel, when folks pay millions of dollars for a home that costs thousands in property taxes, so once a year Billy Bob and his buddy can relive themselves in the front yard. Of course many of the houses employ security for the day - but I find that for about $20 and some Lighting tickets - you can totally piss on or near the security guards.
Don't miss the sights! You will see people with shopping carts holding kegs. You will see grown adults removing their children from strollers so they can put a case of beer there instead. You will see breasts that had their glory in the Carter administration. You will see what the 17 year old skeeze bag and her 20 year old boyfriend had for breakfast this morning! You will see what happens when you mix alcohol, beads, blue collar workers and the business elite! You will see what would happen if Pirates controlled major metropolitan cities! You will see why almost one ton of trash is picked up the next day (but dude, like 25% of that was your mom).
"Ohmigod - the president of My Daddy's Bank totally stuck his tongue down my throat and gave me these beads."
"Seriously? That's so fucking cool - I let the son of Rich as Fuck Motorcars finger me for this cigar."
"Both of you shut up! I got on the float for Successful Cubans with Chips on their Shoulder - fucked half the krewe in the port-o-john on the float - and got to keep this pirate hat."
"Cool"
"Bitchin"
"Well, come on -we have to go catch up with the rest of the National Honor Society of Plant High float before anyone knows we are missing."
And that - my friend - is Gasparilla.
Arrrgh!
Gasparilla - A Newcomer's Guide
So you want to come to Gasparilla, but you don't know what "it's all about?"
Well, you've come to the right place. Gasparilla is a Tampa tradition. It's sets us apart from similar cities like, Des Moines, Buffalo, Cincinnati, Milwaukee and other medium sized metropolitan shitholes. Just take a moment and read through this comprehensive guide to our PirateFest (tm) and you'll be marauding this January like an old pro!
First, we begin at the beginning. About a hundred years ago - the great (?) leaders of Tampa thought it would be fun to dress up like pirates, get piss drunk and ride on horseback through the streets of Tampa raising hell and invoking the name of the Great Pirate Jose Gaspar.
Jose Gaspar probably doesn't exist. Who cares? Neither does economic viability in Centro Ybor or Channelside - that doesn't stop our great (?) leaders from believing in them...
Anytime you can let grown men wear eye patches and drink through prohibition - you are on to something. Over the last century, Gasparilla has continued to grow. The celebration truly gained popularity when a formal group known as Ye Mystic Krewe was formed. Still in existence, and with hundreds of dues-paying members, the Krewe is a themed drinking society of wealthy white males who miss their college fraternity. Understandably, they long for the good old days when they could drink grain alcohol, pressure their steady girlfriends to have sloppy, unsatisfying sex with them and then get a blow job from "Kenny" the "kitchen assistant" in the boiler room.
Of course time passes, and this behavior becomes increasingly unacceptable. Today, these same wealthy white males who, just yesterday it seems, were violently grabbing the back of Kenny's head and looking forward to cheating on their chemistry exam, now realize that to increase their Daddy's shareholder's profits and keep their mistresses well stocked in Dolce and blow, they have to hire IT guys from India and black women from Cornell and whoever-the-fuck-that-Mexican-thinks-he-is-he's-just-a-MBA-degree-from-Wharton-away-from-mowing-my-lawn.
Being rich and white just isn't the same anymore.
So as the times- they are a changing - these pirates find solace in spending a few soused hours partaking in the politically incorrect behavior they must keep carefully hidden from society.
Except there is one thing these bloated rich white men cannot resist - the clink, clink, clink of the golden coins. When faced with the economic benefit of allowing everyday people to join in the festivities, the pirates could not resist. Soon plunder and booty became available to all. Soon the Mayor was passing over a key to the city. Soon dressing like a pirate became cache. Soon if you walked more than ten feet in the month of January or February, somebody in Tampa was throwing fucking beads at you.
There are about 30 some odd Krewes now. There are Latin Krewes and Black Krewes and the Krewe of Venus (all debutantes), the Teddy Bear Krewe, the Krewe of People Who Should Mow My Lawn But Paid Us in Excess of $5,000 To Be Here, the Rough Riders, etc. etc. All paying with the clink, clink, clink of gold coin to the bloated rich white male pirates who sit back, smoke an illegal Cuban cigar, drink expensive scotch and piss on your girlfriend. (I'm sorry, you'll never know about it since he gave her a Coach bag, Gucci sunglasses, $500 and an eight ball to stay quiet about it).
I know what you're thinking…. you have to see all this for yourself! Great Gatsby meets Blackbeard meets Fanny Hill? Well, I can't blame you. Who wouldn't want to be a part of this? That's why 400,000 fucking parasites of humanity come by boat, car, foot, and shopping cart (more on that later) to witness and partake in the insanity of Gasparilla.
Festivities occur along the bay on a road called Bayshore Blvd. Home of the longest contiguous sidewalk, Bayshore Blvd. is known for it's striking views of the TECO power plant, Mosaic gypsum mounds and phosphate factory. The toxic waste belching out of the other side of this body of water is truly breathtaking. Although the inability to draw a proper supply of oxygen may come from the fact that the bay, on a good day, smells like a whore house in a third world country on Two-for-One day, and on a bad day smells like somebody drank a gallon of pig's blood and summarily took a shit on a pile of burning children.
Bayshore is shut down to traffic for the day and the "flotilla" comes in around 1pm. This is a group of approximately 500 boats that come up the Bay with the big pirate ship leading the way. In these 500 boats are a stunning array of haves and have-nots. In the flotilla, you will see boats ranging from yachts to fucking canoes with outboard motors and occupants who wear shirts that say "Let Go of My Ears, I Know What I'm Doing." Clothing tends to be optional in the flotilla. A good rule of thumb is this - the droopier your titties and the fatter your gut - the more you are encouraged to be naked.
The primary pirate ship holds all of the leaders of Tampa, piss drunk, and raising hell. The Mystic Krewe in all of its glory. These guys have been drinking since the night before, and keeping Kenny quiet in the ship's head (no pun intended) with Moon Pies and RC cola. Here they are - our great (?) leaders.
It's a sight to behold. Invasion makes you want to drink to forget your godforsaken place in this world and how life is about as fair as the hooker that sticks her finger in your ass to make you cum faster but still charges you for the full hour.
I digress.
After they land at the Convention Center the Invasion is complete. The Mayor hands the Key to the City over to the Pirates and the debauchery begins. Tampa is a Pirate Town - woo hoo! That's so crazy! Pirates are so cool! Let's all run a train on your mom, just like the Pirates used to do!
After we get done running a train on your mom, we find good spots on Bayshore to watch the parade. This is the official point that everyone begins to get blind drunk and are both entertained and enraged by a non-stop onslaught of drunken Krewes, throwing beads, drinking heavily and making complete idiots out of themselves.
Did I mention we're all drinking? Okay, just wanted to be clear.
Did I mention that Bayshore is home to mulit-million dollar mansions? That's the part that really brings it all home. There is the undeniable comfort in the existence of a karmic wheel, when folks pay millions of dollars for a home that costs thousands in property taxes, so once a year Billy Bob and his buddy can relive themselves in the front yard. Of course many of the houses employ security for the day - but I find that for about $20 and some Lighting tickets - you can totally piss on or near the security guards.
Don't miss the sights! You will see people with shopping carts holding kegs. You will see grown adults removing their children from strollers so they can put a case of beer there instead. You will see breasts that had their glory in the Carter administration. You will see what the 17 year old skeeze bag and her 20 year old boyfriend had for breakfast this morning! You will see what happens when you mix alcohol, beads, blue collar workers and the business elite! You will see what would happen if Pirates controlled major metropolitan cities! You will see why almost one ton of trash is picked up the next day (but dude, like 25% of that was your mom).
"Ohmigod - the president of My Daddy's Bank totally stuck his tongue down my throat and gave me these beads."
"Seriously? That's so fucking cool - I let the son of Rich as Fuck Motorcars finger me for this cigar."
"Both of you shut up! I got on the float for Successful Cubans with Chips on their Shoulder - fucked half the krewe in the port-o-john on the float - and got to keep this pirate hat."
"Cool"
"Bitchin"
"Well, come on -we have to go catch up with the rest of the National Honor Society of Plant High float before anyone knows we are missing."
And that - my friend - is Gasparilla.
Arrrgh!