One good thing about Facebook is that it can help jog your memory. Inspired by
Owen's post about the post-Fun Fourth "whaaaa?" period, as I like to call it, I decided that maybe I should gather my thoughts about this year's Festival. And then I realized that I'd already forgotten most of what happened. It's not that I have a bad memory; actually, I have a very good memory, especially for things that don't matter. But you, too, would be hard pressed to remember the events of a few crazy, hazy days in which you were operating on only a few hours of sleep. On July 5th, we all experienced that singular phenomenon known as the Fun Fourth Hangover. As I said to Carissa, you only
wish you'd been drinking. And then I tried to drive back to the office with my parking brake on, wondering what that awful squealing was for a good minute before I realized it was my car. Take a bow, Robin.
But, as I was saying, I'd already forgotten a lot of what happened this year, but I did recall getting home late on that Saturday night and getting on Facebook very briefly. So I went digging for that status. Here it is verbatim:
Today I was whacked in the face by a tree branch, suffered auditory hallucinations, and laughed so hard that I cried while my boss talked about her idea of chasing me down the street with a gun and/or taser for the local news. And I got to eat funnel cake. And I didn't curse on camera. And I finally felt like I kinda knew what I was doing.
And I thought, "oh yeaaaaaah!" and it all came flooding back to me. Well, maybe not all of it, as I'm sure there are parts I'm repressing for the sake of my sanity, but good chunks of it. I remembered all I'd meant to do that week leading up to the Festival, but had left off or (more likely) forgotten about because I had to put together the Ops bins or transfer important files to a flash drive (which I ended up not using - oh well) or a million and one other things. But here are the things that I remember most clearly:
I was whacked in the face with a tree branch while riding in the back of our entertainment coordinator Kathleen's golf cart. She apparently forgot that Rachelle and I had hitched a ride, even though she was talking to us (yeah...I don't even know), and when she swerved to avoid a branch, her adjustment only changed the target from her to me, and I got hit but good. At which point we all started laughing hysterically, and only after a few minutes of that did either Kathleen or Rachelle think to ask if I was ok. If I'd had my wits about me, I would have milked it for sympathy and favors for the rest of my life. Alas, if I tried to guilt trip her with it now, she'd know I was kidding.
The auditory hallucinations came later that night, while Rachelle (who really was my partner in crime during the latter part of the day) and I were shuttling golf carts back to the parking garage, where they would live until they were picked up the following Tuesday. I had a radio in my golf cart, and all of a sudden I thought I heard a very inappropriate word over the airwaves. I grabbed the radio, turned the volume way up, and held it close to my ear. I didn't hear the inappropriate word again, but I did hear what sounded like "pizza" and "how much should we tip?" and I got very, very excited. It had to be at least 9pm, and I'd been up since 5am, and at that point the thought of pizza was literally the Best Thing That Had Ever Happened In The History Of Ever. And then I pulled up alongside two of our crew members and asked if they'd heard this wonderful conversation, and they looked at me as if I had lost my mind. A little while later, Rachelle and I went inside, and Rachelle asked Peggy if they had ordered pizza or if I was delusional. Peggy informed her that I had, indeed, gone crazypants. And all this occurred while I was operating a motor vehicle. So that was safe.
As for being chased down the street by a taser-wielding Peggy...well, as Owen pointed out, we're very particular when it comes to tablecloths and staples. We've all, at some point or another, gotten stabbed by a staple that didn't get pulled out when the tablecloth was removed from the table, and you learn very quickly that it's easier to make sure they're all out before the tablecloth gets folded up and sent back to the office. Rachelle and I brought a stack back from Festival Park, and I assured Peggy, who was putting them in bins to go back to the office, that all the staples had been removed. Well, it turns out I lied. And the kindly police officer stationed outside HQ had been gleefully showing us his taser, and I 'd been dragged before a TV camera earlier in the evening (hence the comment about not cursing on camera, which, as Owen also pointed out, was quite a feat) to talk about What We Do at Fun Fourth, and, well...that night, there was nothing funnier to us than the idea of Peggy chasing me down the street, in full Mommie Dearest mode, screaming "NO MORE STAPLES, EVERRRR!" Film at 11, back to you, Random Anchor person.
(Sadly, no one thought to actually take a picture of our brilliant scenario,
so this will have to suffice.)
And I got my funnel cake, and it was good, and no one was stabbed in the getting of it (at least not by me).
At some point in the near future, I'll blog about what I do when we're not in Fun Fourth Panic Mode. That post, I assure you, will not be nearly as long as this one.
So, you know about Fun Fourth Festival and Festival of Lights (we hope!) and you wonder what else do those gals at Grassroots Productions do over the course of the year! Well, its not all beach trips and bon-bons (although that would be swell also!).
