Friday, July 15, 2005


Dropped by Thursday Night at the Square on the way to Tempest rehearsal last night. It looked like this:

Completely dead. Which really upsets me – it was a great idea that’s been left to flounder – the same vendors every week, the same guy dressed like a demented elf making balloon animals. Originally, the press material had read that it would just be artisans selling their handcrafts – no there’s an “antiques” table as well, giving the whole event a sort of run down swap meet feel. Where are the farmers for the farmer’s market? Why doesn’t each week have a different theme – antiques one week, food vendors the next. Sigh. At least the library had an SCA demo as part of it last night. Nerdy> You bet. Best at least they’re trying.
Just two blocks away this was the crowd to take look at Gravedigger:

While I was there taking pictures, at least 25 people came and went, mostly families.
So why were these two events competing- why didn’t whoever is in charge of Thursday night n the square, say hey Advance Auto Parts, why not park Gravedigger at the “square” Why not work together? I'm guessing cultural elitism.
Me, I’m not a big monster truck fan, but what I am a fan of is packing people into seats (or streets as the case may be) – cultural is an umbrella term for me. It includes Gravedigger and artisans.
After rehearsal, Amy and I stopped to get a let snack at FoxTales. When we walked in, we were shocked by the three rambunctious little kids who were running around knocking into things and slapping patrons with their balloon animals. Quickly though, as I stood waiting at the bar, the situation sussed out. Dad and his friend had gone to the bar while mom took the kids to Thursday night on the Square. Now it was 8:30 , Dad and his friend were very drunk and Mom had brought the kids by to pick up dad who had no intention of leaving. Suburban looking people, some money, not trashy looking at last.
“Look”, he mumbled to his wife, “Just, ah, buy the kids some fries or something…” he was pawing through the beer soggy bills left on the bar.
“Apparently, you don’t remember Super Size Me.” She answered snippily.
“What?" he looked confused. "Just, ahh…”
“They’re not getting fries”
“Mommmmmy!” the littlest girl shrilled screamed and poked her balloon sword in the bartender's face. She grimaced and then gave her customer’s always right smile.
“C’mon,” Dad’s friend, even more soused then Dad said, “C’mon, you girls want a chicken wing?” He poked a gnawed bone at the middle girl who recoiled.
I got my order in and then went a sat done. 15 minutes later there was a wail and a smack and Mom, and the kids stormed out, one of the girls crying and Mom threatening the others.
“You didn’t do a single goddamn thing wrong.” Dad’s drunk friend told him in a voice that carried over the CSI re run on the big screen. “I don’t know what she was thinking, bringing those kids in here.” He shook his head and ordered another pitcher.

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