I had quite a night last night. As per the mission statement of this blog, every time I do something interesting my small but distinguished audience gets to hear about it.
When I got home from work last night, my brother informed me that the Three Rivers Festival's most essential Junk Food Alley would not last for the duration of the festival, but only half. We had planned on going on Tuesday, but all we would've found then is an empty space and a few bloated carnie corpses (they always leave a few). Our goal was to find something fried and delicious, and this year did not disappoint. First, though, we took a walk through the carnival.
At this point, we made our meandering way to the food. Last year, we ate Milky Way candy bars dipped in funnel cake batter and fried and covered in powdered sugar on a stick. If your religion doesn't include some mention of this, you're being seriously gypped. After solemn consideration and perusal of the various fried-dough-capable neon trailers, we decided on...
Fried Oreos.
Served hot and delicious, these were our fried indulgence of the evening. Even as they lay cooling on my lap, I could smell how sweet they were.
Inside view. Michael commented that for the price we paid, they could've at least used double-stuff. They're still good, though.
One of Michael's cookies actually fused together in the frying process. This is dangerous science, here; not to be trifled with. When we were standing in line pondering what we were going to eat, we heard somebody call the various fried cookies and candy bars "heart-attack on a stick." As we were eating, Michael responded to this: "I've had a heart attack, and it kind of sucked. These are awesome." We made our way back to the car as it began to rain slightly, our stomachs full of fried dough and lard cookies. It's bliss, I tell you what.
After we got home, I remembered that one of my co-workers at the Library was having a party. I've known her since middle school, and she said that there would be live DJs there, so I figured I ought to give it a go. After all, the premise was lucrative in of itself- an outdoor party at night in the middle of nowhere with live techno music. I'm no socialite, but I am a sucker for novelty.
I exited the interstate by the General Motors plant and drove east into the uncertain lightless void that is rural Allen county. My invitation said to take the second exit and turn left, putting me in increasingly unfamiliar territory. Still, I pressed on through the directions and pulled into an unassuming farm driveway. There were cars parked on the grass, indicating I had found the place. Still no sign of a party, though. No lights or music, just a quiet farm at ten o'clock at night. There was a grass path with tire tracks on it and a sign advising against driving on the muddy grass. I took this as an indication that the rest of the trip would be on foot.
The walk back was dark and quiet, with a field to my left and eventually trees to my right. The clouds overhead obscured the moon and stars, so the only light I had to navigate by was the ambient light from the GM plant two miles away. I could feel that the soft ground under my boots was grass and occasionally mud, so I took this as a good sign. Tire tracks lead to people, or so my theory went. After about ten minutes or so I came upon a pond dimly illuminated by the industrial light bounce off the clouds. On the far side I could see a bonfire and a lantern, and movement that looked like people. The way around the pond was shrouded in trees. To quote my wise Grandpa, it was "darker than a sack of assholes."
I reached the bonfire circle of partially visible strangers and scanned for a familiar face. My co-worker Levon was the first person I could recognize, so I sat down in a chair beside him and we talked about stuff and idle chitchat. I knew a few people, including the host. This was all well and good, but the real fun started with the music.
Two DJs were standing at a table under a tent. Their equipment was laid out in front of them like something at NASA. Like funky NASA, to be specific. Each had some sort of drum machine with blinking light buttons to indicate which beats and parts were playing. Each was linked to a larger control box in the center with sliders and lights that shifted the sound in different ways. I stood watching as they worked, listening to the thumping music and studying how each guy changed the music every now and then. Though the beats and sounds were pre-programmed, the whole thing came off as one continuous jam session. The free form aspects of it came from the DJ's improvisation and ad-lib. I kind of felt like Mr. Rogers, visiting an unfamiliar place and learning all about it. Like the aforementioned sage, I felt hopelessly square among the cool people around me, but I watched enthusiastically and nodded my head to the beat.
People would periodically get up and dance when the DJs were doing something interesting. Not the lame-ass R&B club dancing that keeps me away from dance clubs, but cool crazy dancing. This is often accompanied by people waving various colored lights around with varying degrees of success. One guy had two glowsticks tied together, but every time he'd swing them around one of them would fly off and he'd have to go chase it. That was kind of funny, but the really cool thing was the girl who was swinging two wires with clusters of LEDs on the ends. Each strand twirls opposite the other, and in the dark with the music it looks really intricate. The lights illuminated her as they swung past quickly with red, blue, and yellow light. I can't help but think that Degas would have absolutely loved this dancing with weird light. Her next feat was holding the lights close to her hands, standing in front of people and moving the lights in front of and around the person's head in a dizzying display. She turned to me and asked if I'd like to try. I gave an affirmative and she introduced herself. Then, lights in hands, she rapidly waved them around in a random pattern, sometimes in opposite ways so my eyes couldn't follow both. It was quite something. I watched the DJs for a little while more, but I had to leave early because I had to work for eight hours the next day.
After we got home, I remembered that one of my co-workers at the Library was having a party. I've known her since middle school, and she said that there would be live DJs there, so I figured I ought to give it a go. After all, the premise was lucrative in of itself- an outdoor party at night in the middle of nowhere with live techno music. I'm no socialite, but I am a sucker for novelty.
I exited the interstate by the General Motors plant and drove east into the uncertain lightless void that is rural Allen county. My invitation said to take the second exit and turn left, putting me in increasingly unfamiliar territory. Still, I pressed on through the directions and pulled into an unassuming farm driveway. There were cars parked on the grass, indicating I had found the place. Still no sign of a party, though. No lights or music, just a quiet farm at ten o'clock at night. There was a grass path with tire tracks on it and a sign advising against driving on the muddy grass. I took this as an indication that the rest of the trip would be on foot.
The walk back was dark and quiet, with a field to my left and eventually trees to my right. The clouds overhead obscured the moon and stars, so the only light I had to navigate by was the ambient light from the GM plant two miles away. I could feel that the soft ground under my boots was grass and occasionally mud, so I took this as a good sign. Tire tracks lead to people, or so my theory went. After about ten minutes or so I came upon a pond dimly illuminated by the industrial light bounce off the clouds. On the far side I could see a bonfire and a lantern, and movement that looked like people. The way around the pond was shrouded in trees. To quote my wise Grandpa, it was "darker than a sack of assholes."
I reached the bonfire circle of partially visible strangers and scanned for a familiar face. My co-worker Levon was the first person I could recognize, so I sat down in a chair beside him and we talked about stuff and idle chitchat. I knew a few people, including the host. This was all well and good, but the real fun started with the music.
Two DJs were standing at a table under a tent. Their equipment was laid out in front of them like something at NASA. Like funky NASA, to be specific. Each had some sort of drum machine with blinking light buttons to indicate which beats and parts were playing. Each was linked to a larger control box in the center with sliders and lights that shifted the sound in different ways. I stood watching as they worked, listening to the thumping music and studying how each guy changed the music every now and then. Though the beats and sounds were pre-programmed, the whole thing came off as one continuous jam session. The free form aspects of it came from the DJ's improvisation and ad-lib. I kind of felt like Mr. Rogers, visiting an unfamiliar place and learning all about it. Like the aforementioned sage, I felt hopelessly square among the cool people around me, but I watched enthusiastically and nodded my head to the beat.
People would periodically get up and dance when the DJs were doing something interesting. Not the lame-ass R&B club dancing that keeps me away from dance clubs, but cool crazy dancing. This is often accompanied by people waving various colored lights around with varying degrees of success. One guy had two glowsticks tied together, but every time he'd swing them around one of them would fly off and he'd have to go chase it. That was kind of funny, but the really cool thing was the girl who was swinging two wires with clusters of LEDs on the ends. Each strand twirls opposite the other, and in the dark with the music it looks really intricate. The lights illuminated her as they swung past quickly with red, blue, and yellow light. I can't help but think that Degas would have absolutely loved this dancing with weird light. Her next feat was holding the lights close to her hands, standing in front of people and moving the lights in front of and around the person's head in a dizzying display. She turned to me and asked if I'd like to try. I gave an affirmative and she introduced herself. Then, lights in hands, she rapidly waved them around in a random pattern, sometimes in opposite ways so my eyes couldn't follow both. It was quite something. I watched the DJs for a little while more, but I had to leave early because I had to work for eight hours the next day.
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