Let The Summer Begin

I was going to take today off and start the Memorial Day holiday early, but I didn't think that was a fitting way to remember the men and women who have served our country. I doubt that many people will actually take the time Monday to think of those who gave their lives in service of this great land, heck, that would harsh the mellow of the cookout. So before we go much further let me say thanks. There, I tried not to get too maudlin. Now on to the weekend.

Memorial Day is the official kick off of Summer. Today people are leaving work early, loading their families into horrendous pop up trailers and heading out for the first taste of warm weather fun. Here in the Midwest, folks have been chomping at the bit for months. You can only take so much cold and gloom before you want to take the family to a deserted mountain hotel and hit them all with an axe. Come to think of it, if I were trapped in a camper with my family for a few days there might be some "redrum" on the horizon.

This weekend there are the first festivals of the season. You know the ones, "Irish fest", "rib fest", bad hygiene fest. Most of them end up being bad hygiene fests anyway. You can only put people on a blacktop parking lot for a day of drinking and hazardous carnival rides for so long before the stench starts to choke you. I'm actually looking forward to hitting some fests this summer. We weren't privy to any out in California. The thought of driving three hours to "Garlic fest" didn't hold much allure.

These fests usually attract quite a diverse crowd. You get your typical suburban families. The poor dad pushing the stroller packed with ungrateful rug rats, trying not to sweat through his new Polo shirt. He's trying so hard not to get caught staring at the hotties in their "Daisey Dukes" and half shirts that he runs the stroller into the back of his wife's legs causing a huge fight, his only solace, a stolen moment in the beer tent when she puts the kids on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Wow, I paint a vivid picture of domestic hell don't I? Then you have the white trash element that always loves a chance to show off their new summer mullet. Nothing says summer fashion like a sleeveless Def Lepard t-shirt, tight cut off blue jeans and BK hightops from 1986. The final group is made up of packs of disenfranchised youths. They wander the fests in packs like rabid dogs, some coupled off with their hands in each others back pockets and the rest just trolling for trouble and hoping they find the guy who'll get them a six pack for the parking lot.

Convinced yet? Maybe this will flip your skirt. Fests are the best place to see bands that you thought were great on their "We blew all our money and now we're playing a park" tour. In the mood for a little Quiet Riot, Rick Springfield, or Night Ranger? Who isn't! Cum on, feel the noiz, you working class dog, I'll bring Sister Christian and we'll have a blow out. There's no better value than paying a five dollar fest cover to see just how far the mighty have fallen. I saw Night Ranger at a fest a few years ago. The stage was in front of the train tacks. Wait for it. That's right. At the exact moment when they were launching into the chorus of their biggest song, Choo Choo Charlie came rumbling by blowing his horn. Rock on!

I'm actually hitting Irish fest this weekend. There's nothing better than seeing thousands of pale skinned Irishmen in shorts for the first time. The skin will be glowing so bright I'll bet you'll see it from space. There may be no beer left in Chicago when this is over, but I can't wait to be drunk and weep with my countrymen and those who strive to be like us when we launch into "Danny Boy" late Saturday night.

Have a safe and enjoyable holiday. I'll talk to you Tuesday. Yeah, I'm taking Monday off. Use the day to process your disappointment. Later...Brian