AB and Me

April 28th, 2008 by Rainey

So this week is the famed “Apple Blossom Festival” here in the big W’chester.  All fine and well for the hordes who pour in to watch, from what I can tell, the same exact parade as every other year.  Tradition has its lure.  I guess.

But for those poor saps who migrated here for work or other transitory reasons, whose blood does not run the requisite pink and green, Apple Blossom revelry seems to be a little misplaced.  Mainly, it just brings a lot of traffic problems to the area for the weekend.  Rickety fair rides.  Lots of greasy food.  And people.  Lots and lots of people.

As a friend recently commented, it is fine as a fertility ritual.  But it would be a whole hell of a lot more interesting if they would just own up to it and perhaps sacrifice a virgin or two.  Instead, they bring the daughters of “famous” people in, crown them Miss Apple Blossom, and ride them around in a nice car, behind a float filled with local girls who make up her “court.”  Blech.

Though in years past the festival has drawn celebrities the likes of Bob Hope, Chevy Chase, and other people you have actually heard of…the past few years have been less than interesting.  Dorothy Hamill, Tom Wopat (one of the Dukes of Hazzard, if you must know), the guy who sings Danke Shein…Wayne Newton, that really tan guy…George Hamilton.  Yeah.  If you are famous because of a description like “really tan guy” things aren’t looking good.

Now, if we, like all normal people not enamored with a parade, could simply get out of dodge, all would be fine and well.  Unfortunately, an unwritten part of my job description is to plan, manage, oversee, and execute the world’s largest youth fundraiser.  Namely, selling over five hundred seats to two parades, making and cutting tickets, setting up chairs, ordering port-a-johns, numbering seats, setting up and selling concessions, and generally being PRESENT for said parades.   And, to top it all off, wrangling teenagers who would rather go to the midway to buy overpriced funnel cakes and hot dogs.  Good times.

So this weekend I will not only endure yet another “Bloom”…I will do it with a four and a half month old.  This is not something to which I would wish to expose my son at such an innocent age.  But hey…if it means that I can opt out of weekends full of car washes and pancake breakfasts in attempt to raise money for mission trips…so be it.  We can get through this.  We will Bloom with the best of them.  And then we will go home.

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