There's Nothing Better Than A Parade On The Beach

You can say whatever the hell you want about South Florida sports fans. Call us fair-weather, say there’s not that many of us I don’t care. At the end of the day, you just hate us because you ain’t us. And honestly, I don’t blame you. I, too, would be mad if my team was freezing their asses off in some miserable, gray ass city while ours was busy stacking championships under the palm trees.

It’s not fair, I get it. Sunshine, blue skies, ocean breeze, and now our hockey team just casually goes back to back? What kind of deal with the devil did we make? Why do these tan assholes get to win and live in paradise? It doesn’t make sense. But let’s be real it’s not personal. It’s just spite. Envy disguised as criticism.

Because here's the truth, a parade in paradise is one of the greatest experiences you’ll ever have in your life. 400,000 people lined up across Fort Lauderdale Beach, bars overflowing with booze and energy, beautiful women in bikinis everywhere you look, drinks being passed around like Halloween candy. And then when the pregame finally wraps up everyone flocks to the beach stage. That’s right, the stage is on the sand.

And from there, it becomes something else entirely. Not just a party. The entire fucking city turns into a festival, half of us waist deep in the ocean, music blasting, beers flowing, and the Stanley Cup just sitting there in the middle of it all like a goddamn beacon.

You can show me Boston, Chicago, Denver, wherever. Show me your “real” fans and your cold ass celebrations. I don’t give a fuck. Nobody, and I mean nobody, throws a parade like South Florida.