The Year the Aijian Family’s “Noah” Float Ruled La Fiesta
Fiesta rolls into Santa Barbara every first Wednesday in August, and the whole place forgets how to act normal. The streets explode with music, tacos, dancing ladies in fancy dresses, and folks showing off their fiesta outfits. The Children’s Parade is the real circus. Parents go all out, turning strollers and wagons into works of art. One year, I saw a baby dressed as a tortilla chip, nestled in a stroller made to look like a salsa bowl, waving a tiny maraca like a pro.
One year, my wife roped us into building a bullfight float. Aunt Jan crafted a giant papier-mâché bull for the backdrop. Our son and his cousin played matadors, taunting the wobbly bull, while the girls, decked out like mini señoritas, cheered from a float made to look like the Santa Barbara Mission. I spent the day fetching glue and praying the thing wouldn’t collapse. The crowd loved it. I was ready for a cold drink by the end.
Then came the year we lost our minds.
My wife, the ringleader, decided we’d build a “Noah Goes to Fiesta” float. An ark, packed with animals: two chickens, two rabbits, a cat with her squirming kittens, two goats, two horses, and – because our house is basically a zoo – two dogs. Rusty, our scrappy mutt, and his drooly sidekick
Daisy, the neighbor’s dog. The smaller critters would ride on a wooden ark we slapped together on a flatbed trailer. The goats would walk alongside. The horses would stay in their trailer until showtime. Eric, the neighbor kid, was our Noah, sporting a fake beard and waving a cane as if he were directing the animals onto the boat. The kids were pumped. I was already dreading the cleanup.
Parade morning, we hitched the horse trailer to the truck, loaded the ark with animals, and set off down the four-lane road to the staging area. The goats are bleating, Rusty and Daisy are barking like they’ve spotted a squirrel army, and I’m just trying to keep the coffee in my cup.
Then disaster struck.
One of the chickens, Hilda, my personal nemesis, picked the lock on her cage and made a break for it. She went flapping across four lanes of traffic like a feathered stunt double, dodging cars while horns blared. My wife’s hollering, “Get the chicken!”
The kids are screaming, half scared, half thrilled. The dogs are going nuts, Rusty’s practically climbing over Daisy to join the chase.
I pulled over, horse trailer and all, and ran across the road like a fool, weaving through traffic. The kids cheered from the trailer as if this were the best thing since cotton candy. I finally cornered Hilda in a barbershop doorway, where she was clucking like she owned the place. I grabbed her, tucked her under my arm like a football, and jogged back, sweating and muttering about how I keep getting dragged into these things.
Somehow, we made it to the parade. We unloaded the horses, and the ark was a sight. Eric stood tall as Noah, waving his cane while the kittens tumbled, the rabbits munched hay, and Rusty and Daisy wagged their tails like they were born for the spotlight. The goats strutted. The horses pranced. The crowd went wild.
The next day, we made the front page of the Santa Barbara News-Press: “Noah’s Fiesta Ark Steals the Show.” The kids were over the moon, showing off the clipping to everyone. I was just glad Hilda didn’t stage another breakout.
•••
If you have enjoyed this article or Dr. Aijian’s prior contributions to SBCurrent, you will probably appreciate his upcoming book, “Laughter and Tears: A Doctor’s Stories.” Anticipated release after Labor Day. Stay tuned
•••
Santa Barbara’s beloved Old Spanish Days Fiesta—or simply “Fiesta” to locals—takes over the city for five vibrant days of music, dance, parades, and tradition. The 2026 celebration runs August 5–9. More at sbfiesta.org.
Community Calendar:
Got a Santa Barbara event for our community calendar? Fenkner@sbcurrent.com