Archive for October, 2010

Summer Fun


2010
10.04

I’m usually a calm, well-mannered kind of a gal, but when pushed I can mix it up with the best of them.  I don’t like to be pushed mind you; I usually eschew any sort of violence, but sometimes you just have to stick up for yourself.

I’m not the only gal who feels this way.  Reality star Tila Tequila had her own problems this summer when she was pelted with stones and feces (apparently old fashioned sticks and stones weren’t good enough) during an outdoor music festival in southern Illinois.  Her incident happened at the Gathering of the Juggalos, a weekend festival based around the band Insane Clown Posse and other groups from Psychopathic Records.  You all know my opinions on clowns based on my last blog post.  Anything involving an Insane Clown Posse sounds like DANGER!!!

I feel for Tila, or whatever her name really is, I do.  Had I not experienced my own violence this summer I don’t think I could relate as well.

The evening started off calmly enough; a group of friends had decided to attend a concert at a local county fair.  Before we went to the concert, we went to a nice little restaurant near the fair location and we all enjoyed a couple of bottles of local wine.  Yours truly had “appreciated the grape,” shall we say, and I really was feeling no discomfort or troubles as we left the restaurant.

The concert arena was packed and there were just a few too many distractions for me to keep me as interested in the pre-show of the concert as I had planned to be.  In fact, I didn’t see any of the opening band, but my seat provided me with more entertainment than the band could offer.

The “lady” next to me was shoving a grinder sandwich in her face in what could best be described as some sort of an FFF: Frenzied Fairground Feeding.  I needed to watch myself to not get anywhere near her teeth, she was that ravenous and her teeth looked that sharp.  Let’s just say that I certainly appreciate how those guys must feel when they are dropped into the ocean in a metal cage near a Great White Shark.  My only problem was that a cage was not at my disposal so I needed to be vigilant!

After devouring a foot long grinder sandwich she was back and forth to the concession stand several times.  I was amused by her sustained feeding frenzy in addition to her ability to balance a container of nacho cheese, chips, and two beers on her ample bosom.  Some people who go to county fairs have all the skills.

We were also sitting on metal bleachers while it was lightening profusely; this seemed like a bad idea to me.  I don’t know much about electricity but the fear of electrocution did cross my mind one or two times.  I don’t think that idea had dawned on the many other fair attendees, or maybe they had been celebrating so much that they really were a little too out of it to notice, I don’t really know.

As the thunder, lightening and nacho chips from my neighbor were flying, it all started to unravel.  What happened next is the stuff from which long cherished and repeated stories are born…..

The first thing that happened was that several of our dear friends had their clocks cleaned by flying soda bottles (at least it wasn’t stones and feces).  For Heaven’s sake, why can’t people just throw their garbage on the ground like everyone else does?  While the majority of our group was distracted and dodging various flying beverage bottles, my attention was drawn to other “entertainment”. 

I was snuggling with my husband.  My arm was resting behind his back and across his shoulders when it was slammed hard against the chair back. Quickly I whipped my head around in time to see two bubbas throwing drunken punches at each other in what I would later learn was a continuation of a fight started by their women-folk.  Well heck!  Who at a county fair doesn’t love a good chick smack down? (there was no Jell-O wrestling or wet t-shirts involved to my knowledge.)

The gal behind me was knocked senseless; come to think of it, she may have been senseless when she walked in so that may not be the best description of her.  She had that sort of sallow, in-bred look; either that or she was just a really proficient Meth-user who got the beejeebers smacked out of her.  Anyway, she was laying across several people when the shots started flying my way.

Let’s remember that my arm was slammed against a metal railing, it began to turn black and purple with a huge goose egg, but I was going to Stand By My Man while I took a few hits for the team.  My husband Mike was having no part of it.  He knew that the crowd was fixin’ to turn into an ugly, bare-fist-flying riot so he grabbed me by the shirt and tried to get me to do what any intelligent Fair go-ers would do: run!

I didn’t want to run!   I liked my spot on those metal bleachers, I was too amused by the human garbage dispenser next to me, the potential excitement of somebody being electrocuted and let’s not forget at all that music being played by the band.   Why does Mike always try to kill my fun?

I’m sure Tila Tequila would feel and understand my pain; perhaps someone will send this Blog post to her.  I can only hope.

Sometimes sticking up for yourself means you get knocked-upside the head by your fellow concert seat mates; sometimes it means that you know enough to run. Sometimes your path diverges in a crowd.  Someday ages and ages hence I will examine the path that Mike chose for us, the one that was less traveled by rowdy fair go-ers.  Two paths diverged into the crowd; the one that we chose made all the difference.