They had an Independence Day celebration in my little city this past sunday. Because we're so independent, July 4th can go fuck itself.
Except for the fire works. Which started at 8pm tonight. It's monday. And they will continue throughout the week. Fire works and flags and grilled hot dogs is what we've saved for the actual 4th. Because our forefathers fought for the right for us to eat burnt hot dogs from a hand with three remaining fingers.
But the celebration took place sunday, so sunday is when we celebrated.
We had a little mini-carnival. No admission fee, and rides were free, which was great. They had a couple of bouncy castles and a fun house of sorts and a generic spinning teacup thing (the Rotating Scotch Glass. My fave.) and some kiddie rocket ship and plane rides which the Peanut loved. None of the rides were really aimed at anyone older than 9 or 10.
There was ice cream and hamburgers and slush and people proudly displaying their summer bodies. Tattoos and muffin tops were de rigueur for the day. Tattoos and muffin tops, by the way, also the name of the least popular room in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
Our Mayor would name his turds if he thought it would get him re-elected, so his name had been stamped all over the city for the week leading up to the big party. And then again at the carnival. The Mayor Carlo DeMaria Independence Day Celebration. The Mayor DeMaria haunted house and voter registration booth. Fried DeMariough for a snack. He's a pain in the ass.
The best thing they had though, was the professional wrestling/boxing demonstrations. You know, for the kids. My city is a popular stop on the minor league pro-wrestling circuit. There are usually one or two shows a month in the winter. So this was a natural.
It was just desperate men who were about my height and level of physical fitness (think donut) going at each other with names like "Mr. Pokey" and "The Owie man" and "Jerry."
Saw a couple of them jogging around the grounds getting warmed up. Sweating. Smoking. Eating. Already in their masks. Which was necessary because whenever I see a couple fat guys jogging in black sweatpants with no shirt I think "Oh shit, that's semi-pro wrestling phenom The Back Brace! And his tag team partner, Ace Bandage. I recognize their boobs."
The kids had a great time. The Peanut is a ride fanatic, and after I took her through the fun house, which was basically a vertical playground with a long slide at the end, she loosened up and went on all the rides she could all by herself. The Pumpkin Man is still too little for rides, but he had a great time running as fast as he could toward the exposed gears and compressors in the backs of the rides.
Once again, we end on an unfortunately apt metaphor for growing up.
Happy Independence Day everyone!