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Published: February 8, 2009
Trish Bergelt's first Gasparilla brought tears to her eyes.
Bergelt, 42, of Kissimmee, her 20-year-old son and friends chopped their way through 100 pounds of onions Saturday morning, preparing their concession stand for hungry pirates and revelers.
The vendors with Bailey's Concessions also brought 300 pounds of meat: steak, bratwurst, hot dogs and hamburgers.
Friend Brent Stevenson, 30, tended the grill, filling the air with an aroma of sizzling beef. Husband Paul Bergelt mixed lemonade.
Daughters Paige, 17, and Parker, 11, were eager to collect beads.
As vendors rolled colorful carts of beads and hats along Bayshore Boulevard and joggers pounded the pavement, about 40 Tampa police officers gathered beneath a tree at Bay to Bay Boulevard to review their assignments.
"Don't let any joggers or walkers past you onto the route. Go ahead and lock that down," Sgt. Rick Ubinas told the group.
With many officers fresh off Super Bowl duty, working Gasparilla this year was a challenge, but it "runs real smooth," Ubinas said. Officers are swift to respond to complaints.
Ian and Audrey Brown of Jacksonville were in Tampa for their first Gasparilla festivities.
They arrived at about 11 p.m. Friday and parked their 1985 Volkswagen van in a strategic location along Channel Drive on Davis Islands, adjacent to where the Jose Gasparilla pirate ship passed Saturday.
Ian, 27, and Audrey, 22, were joined by other revelers getting an early start. A fire pit fended off Saturday morning's chill, skull-and-crossbones flags decorated the road, and mimosas and beer were beverages of choice as spectators braced themselves for a long day of partying.
Lana Clendenning, a self-proclaimed "cigar girl," has worked the Gasparilla parade for three years. On Saturday she peddled cigars, cigarettes and butane lighters on Bayshore Boulevard, near the Davis Islands bridges.
Clendenning said Gasparilla is her favorite event. It is outdoors and, most significantly, lucrative.
"I'm all about the money," she said. "If there is an event I'm going to be there to make money."
She planned to work for about 12 hours Saturday and, with luck, top last year's take-home booty of about $500.
Ric Wellhart, a senior at the University of South Florida, said he spent about $100 on his pirate outfit. His favorite accessory? An "authentic" pirate goblet; black with a skull and crossbones.
"It brings more attention to us," he said. "It makes it more festive."
Paradegoers were more interested in sights and sounds along the waterfront early Saturday afternoon than they were in Brock Hurley's 100-person beer bong at Wings Gone Wild on Bay to Bay Boulevard a few blocks off Bayshore Boulevard.
Hurley anticipated patrons would return after the parade wound its way toward downtown Tampa.
He invented the 20-foot-tall contraption last year when his work selling mortgages and real estate dissipated with the weak economy.
For a $10 cover charge at Wings Gone Wild, participants got a 20-ounce shot of beer in eight seconds.
Tampa Mayor Pam Iorio surrendered the keys to the city to a host of invading pirates at the Tampa Convention Center early Saturday afternoon. Onlookers then scurried to find prime viewing positions for the parade along Bayshore Boulevard.
Joanna Williams operated the Dolla Holla stand at Franklin and Brorein streets selling hot dogs, chicken sandwiches and sausages.
"This is how we raise money," said Williams, director of a nonprofit job search agency, Jobs4USA, which works with the Tampa Housing Authority and the Department of Justice to find jobs for teenagers, ex-felons or anyone else looking for work.
T'Keyah Sneed, 17, was helping Williams.
"It's self-employment before stealing and starving," Williams said. The Dolla Holla, she said, shows how easy it is to launch a business.
Victoria Sorrels of Lakeland invited her boyfriend, Alphonso Harris of Chicago, to join her in Tampa for the Gasparilla festivities.
It was Harris' first Gasparilla experience, and he went all-out. Sorrels had no trouble convincing him to dress as a swashbuckling pirate.
"Deep down inside I am a pirate," Harris said. "I'm just a city pirate. I'm getting back to my roots."
Egypt Temple Shrine clowns said the Gasparilla parade is an opportunity to spread the word about their charitable hospital work for children. The clowns don't toss beads, eat, drink alcoholic beverages or smoke during the event, "but we make people laugh," said Petey Williams.
Clown Eliot "El-mo" Lincoln wore four-fingered white gloves that made his hands look 10 times their normal size. He said he hears people shout, "'Thank you for helping our kids.'
"It's the best part," Lincoln said.
Spyke, a 16-year-old blue-and-gold macaw parrot, is a photograph magnet perched on her owner's shoulder.
Adorned in pirate garb, Mike Mularz and Julie Sommerville are frequent Gasparilla paradegoers. People stop them frequently, asking to take photographs with Spyke. Scratch the bird's head, she loves it. Touch her tail, she might bite.
"We're here for good times, to meet new people and spread random acts of kindness and forget about the day's worries," Mike Mularz said.
Spyke gets into the act, giving random "kisses" to intrigued passers-by.
Tribune reporters Valerie Kalfrin, Jamie Pilarczyk, Jose Patino Girona and Kathy Steele contributed to this report.
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