The Bandwagon vs. The Showboat

And they’re off! The bandwagon and the showboat. A matchup decades in the making, a contest long sought by fans of vehicular sports metaphors. And now it’s here: The Race, presented by Merriam-Webster.

 

The bandwagon takes the lead early, and it moves with ease; only a flutist and triangle player are on board. Had it been the betting favorite, surely there would have been more. But it’s just a duo, and their sound fits their pace: peppy, ethereal, unbothered.

 

Over in the canal, the showboat isn’t concerned. It takes its sweet time getting off the line, with the crew first ensuring they have all the supplies for a celebratory finish. Fireworks are arranged, champagne is put on ice, anti-wagon body paint is painted.

 

At the half-mile mark, the bandwagon is now a four-piece, having picked up a bassist and keyboard player on the side of the road. They’re jamming, sounding good. There’s even talk about going on tour. After reaching a crest in the road, they make room for a drummer. He and his kit help with the gradual downhill.

 

People with all sorts of instruments now line the road, clamoring to be included. The wagon can afford to stop, and it does, picking up five guitarists, two accordion players, and a whole brass section who say they have “Mardi Gras experience.” Things are getting rowdy.

 

But now, a warning sign. What we’re hearing from our mic’d up drummer doesn’t reflect well on the bandwagon. He’s demanding that the showboat be disqualified. “The towboat’s not even towing! It’s pushing!” he exclaims.

 

Yet that, friends, is what tugboats do to showboats, despite the name. The triangle player, having been made to look bad in front of millions, shoots over a look of disgust. The flutist shakes his head. Friction brews.

 

Which wouldn’t be a problem if it didn’t reflect something more ominous: The bandwagon is slowing down. The horses are tiring, with still half the race to go.

 

Nobody wants to hop off the bandwagon while in the lead, so they try something else: Those with wind instruments aim them at the road behind them. That force of air should boost them forward, they figure. Soon, everyone else joins in after picking up some loose vuvuzelas. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

But the showboat pulls even. Those on board head out on deck to catch a glimpse of their competition. Taunting gestures ensue. The vessel moves ahead of its competitor, which continues to falter.

 

Many bandwagoners are playing flat and out of time. One guitarist acknowledges he’s more of a Guitar Hero player. And the brass section with “Mardi Gras experience”? They admit they only meant they had been to Mardi Gras.

 

They try another tactic: Everyone now aims at the horses. They’ll want to get away from these grating sounds, they think, and therefore run faster. But it’s futile. Pace continues to drop. Morale is low.

 

The showboat extends its lead, and it’s a glorious time onboard the SS Suck It. Cigars are puffed proudly, the champagne is poured liberally, and as for the show? It’s a curated YouTube playlist of bat flipping home run hitters, high-stepping punt returners, and gloves-down boxers.

 

Amid the festivities, nobody notices it: They’ve veered left, toward shore. The towboat stops pushing and places an emergency call to the captain’s quarters. It goes unanswered; the captain is on the dancefloor doing the limbo.

 

The showboat being at such an angle is a welcome sight to those on the bandwagon as they pass by a minute later. Only the two original members remain. The others, despondent after trailing by such a wide margin, had jumped off.

 

Soon, a showboat crewmember realizes the boat’s direction and alerts the others. The smoking, the drinking, and the playlist viewing are paused. The captain, hobbling up to the wheel with a pulled groin, corrects course.

 

But the showboating proves to be a fatal mistake, even as the bandwagon, with the finish line in sight, takes on fifteen new passengers. Their music is triumphant yet amateurish, as evident by their attempt at “We Are the Champions.”

 

Victorious nonetheless, the bandwagon earns the inaugural title of Fastest Metaphor, as well as the right to compete in The Race II. Its opponent: the hype train.

 

Commentators really like the locomotive.