Someone call Guinness

Medford is a biggish city in southern Oregon, but really small compared with Phoenix, so I was very excited to hear that we were in town in time for the Pear Blossom Festival.
I pictured some quaint, small town festival like the Squash Festival in "Doc Hollywood."
I didn't let Sami's description of the parade - a bunch of tractors, awful floats and random people in average cars - distract me from the ideal I had in mind.
Unfortunately, had her description mentioned that there would be a few high school marching bands sprinkled in, she would have been spot on.
Early in the parade, a Toyota Camry drove by with a sign on it stating the area's congressman's name. That's it. No congressman, just a guy driving a Camry with a congressman's name on it.
Now imagine that, and add in every tractor owner, news and radio station, high school band, community group and martial arts, gymnastics and cheerleading school in the area and you've been to the Pear Blossom Parade.

The parade started off strong with a bunch of fire trucks.

Float for festival's royalty - pulled by a tractor

Party on, City Automotive!

The dancing yogurt cone really made this entry

No parade is complete without the Red Hot Grandmas entry

Sounds like an average parade, right? Yes, except this one just kept going with no end in sight.
At one point, we wondered if the parade was on a loop and we were seeing groups that had already passed go by again.
It seemed as if every resident in the city was at this parade: Half sitting along the street, the other half walking down the center of it. 
I've never left a parade before it was over, but my legs were starting to go numb from sitting so long.
From what I understand, this is the area's only parade, so everyone wanting to participate is natural. I would just recommend a limit to the number of entrants or perhaps instituting some kind of requirements - like entries must be more than a guy driving a car with a sign on it. Just saying. 
One redeeming thing about the parade was that nearly every entrant walked by and handed out candy to the kids. Christina, Judah and Benjamin walked away with a decent haul of goodies. 
Not to be deterred by the unending dullness of the parade, I convinced everyone to go to the festival that followed the parade, hoping to find the quaintness there.
We walked into a wall of people standing in lines as long as the parade to buy food from stands.
I ended up waiting in a deceptively shortish line for a cheeseburger. I didn't time it, but it easily could have been 30 minutes.
By the time I had eaten, we were all pretty sick of being there, so we skipped looking at the small number of vendor booths.
There was one big, overly crowded tent dedicated to all-things pear, but we were all very ready to go home.
Next time, I will listen to the locals and avoid imagined quaintness.