As I flipped my calendar from September to October, I was giddy with anticipation because that meant that the baseball playoffs were just around the corner. With the Yankees coming into the tenth month of 2000 with a record that was far less spectacular then in 1998 when they ended the season with the greatest win-loss record in the history of baseball and in 1999 when they swept the World Series for the second year in a row – many baseball experts were doubtful that the Bronx Bombers would make it to the World Series for a third time – not me. Being a die hard Yankee fan and a true believer in a team that has shown time and time again that there is no such thing as being down and out – I knew that no matter what the Yankees’ record was when they walked into October – they would ride the #4 train down the Canyon of Heroes once again as the first World Series Champions of the new millennium – what I didn’t know was that I would be along for the ride.

When the Mets clinched the National League Championship Series and were waiting to face either the Mariners or the Yankees in the World Series – I called the Mayor’s office and volunteered my services for the Yankee parade. “But the Yankees haven’t even clinched the ALCS yet,” my contact at the Mayor’s office said to me. “I know Julie,” I said. “But when the Yankees win the World Series – I want to work the parade.” Despite the fact that so far it was only the Mets that were the ones in the Series, and despite the fact that if the Mariners clinched instead of the Yankees and took the Series from the Amazins and the trophy back to Seattle, we would have had no parade at all – I knew that the Canyon of Heroes would once again belong to the team that has traveled down that path so many times, they should rename it Pinstripe Way. So I put my order for parade duty in early, sat back, and waited for the Yanks to three-peat – wouldn’t you know – I was right.

So after the Yanks won the Series and it was time to pass out the parade duties – I was praying that of all the different jobs that us parade volunteers could be assigned to – I would get the one that was the most sought after. The one assignment that would put me where the two million people that lined the parade route would love to be. The one place where names like Yogi Berra, Reggie Jackson and Derek Jeter were when they won the World Series and received the well-deserved accolades of the greatest City in the world. The best seat in the house – in the parade itself.

Sure enough, as with almost every experience in my wonderfully blessed life – the Lord heard me – and I got exactly what I prayed for.

There I was. Standing on Press Float # 4 leading the Pitchers and Catchers Float down Broadway in the first World Series parade of the 21st Century. I went from sitting at home watching the World Series and cheering my favorite baseball team on to victory to joining them as they were showered in ticker tape and drowned in a thunderous sea of cheers down the Canyon of Heroes. I went from someone who would have given their right arm for a ticket to the World Series to someone who was wearing a pass around their neck with the Yankees logo on it and the word “STAFF” across it. I went from someone who last year waited eagerly at City Hall for the parade to get to Chambers Street to being in that very parade as thousands waited as I did for us to arrive. But more importantly – I got to know what it was like to ride down Broadway in a float as millions of people cheered and screamed as I went by. I know they were not there to see me, but to experience that incredible feeling is something I will always remember. If I had to describe the feeling of that half hour, which felt like an eternity – I would use the word, “unbelievable” – because although it is over – I still can’t believe that was me on that float.

But it was me – and I’ll never forget it.