Fall Fete (anecdote)
I’ll keep this concise, but so much happened.
Friendly faces, new and familiar; hugs and handshakes. Powerful impressions.
Liz and Liza, I think you, Stella, and Hudson should make a service that wakes people with energetic puppies, call it: ‘Alarmingly Cute’. Alexandra, thanks for letting me carry you, not that your dance skill needed carrying. Alex, I’m glad the Corvette has an accelerometer, and that we took the scenic route. Andrew, Marty found out your mom didn’t like that table any way… lucky break! Ariel, someday I hope to sing with a harp, if you’d train me in vocals, I couldn’t help but listen. Olivia, perhaps you’ll warmly lend a helping hand toward my endeavors? Melissa, how about those SNATCHing wine stories? Meat Paper, the origin of your nickname is as elusive as deli wrappings gone with the wind… Cody: SMILE! Solomon, will you link me to a breathtakingly high quality video? Keyur, next time you lead me toward a morning jog, maybe MENTION THAT IT IS 4 MILES instead of surprising me. (worth it) Vicky, if I happen to catch you rolling around, I’ll give you a very light push. Tamir, I lost my voice, let’s lose it again sometime. Thanks for bringing Spikeball, Charlie, and for being my big brother, that’s always been baller.
Special thanks to Paul for hosting despite the shortcomings of prior lawsuits. Sunday’s hot dogs were somehow the best of my existence, this is coming from a frequent patron of Swanky Franks.
Darcie, I hereby proactively nominate you to lead if we’re ever stranded on a lifeboat together. Supplies, food, bedding, cleaning–Oh captain, my captain! Under your command, I’ll vacuum rooms ’til the end of the earth. You made the experience especially magical. Some of us tend to forget to eat, and turn into a hangry monster, fortunately, you had food prepped proactively! There is a numb spot on my left big toe that I’ll always associate with your caring statement, “You’ll be fine.”
And I didn’t want to boast, but (here’s where I boast any way), ere Sunday dawn, I lay supine next to the embers of the bonfire with low rumbling thunder rolling beyond the hilltops, the lightning like distant fireworks. The tail of the 9th shooting star remains my last vivid recollection drifting into a dreamless sleep.
After such positive Friday and Saturday memories, Sunday’s and Monday’s felt somewhat:
He gladly yelled, “Let me know, you got my number!” We packed the tent, a badminton stake re-purposed the lost one. We tangented to stuff like: ATVs, oil, and how great the 80s were. Our conversation kept looping back to the great unknown: women. We arrived to the farm, and I finally unlocked the Subaru.
Marty awaited a click before departing the station; and held confident that his 4 year-old would figure it out. The boy struggled to buckle his safety seat in. I arrived in Poughkeepsie after about an hour.
During the ride, I had a minor altercation with the conductor. Before boarding, I scribbled some burning thoughts which became: ‘When You Leave a Poet Speechless‘. Eating a flaky croissant on the way to Grand Central cleared my head slightly. I slept restlessly. Vicky moved clothing off of the bed, despite my vocal contentment with the rug on the floor. Charlie buzzed me up.
Raul ensured I could get to Brooklyn. On Metro North, I wrote in my diary; Melisa and her husband chatted and cuddled, as marrieds do. Our party disbanded, physically unscathed, goodbyes all around. The headless horseman chose not to kill us. Kat screamed: a lot, several ghouls accidentally collided with me in an attempt to feast on her screams. The creatures had one rule: no touching.
We traversed a pond-side path toward certain terror: eerie, beautiful. We’re lucky he was too distracted to bite us and drink our blood. The vampire DJ rocked out like it was 1399. We rendezvoused with Cody, Ted, Virgil, Kat, Raul, Melisa and Nassib at an entry queue with good music. A collector lusted at the Porsche as he took $5. Sleepy Hallow residents charged haunted hallow visitors for parking.
The ride slept me hard.
We laughed. He facetiously sighed, “happens all the time,” to which I jested, “you saw me the other times?” I explained, “You looked really classy just now.” On our way out, Virgil caught me attempting a candid photo of him reading a newspaper in a black chair near the fire. Ted Talks sent his drink back, his politeness: well received. The witty servers brought tasty food and contagious smiles. Beacon had a quaint, beauty atmosphere.
Ieva stowed overflowing bags in the trunk ere our fruitful departure. A red orb flecked with black bits nearly tricked me into grabbing a sticky apple look-a-like, 100s of flies evidently weren’t so smart. Satisfying. Airborne bits flew. We played with the rotten ones, throwing and smashing ’em with sticks. A picker enjoyed an apple, maybe the flavors of the fruits of our labors never wither. The orchard Paul brought us to was basked in dusk-light, ‘the golden hour’.
Waving from Amin’s Porsche inner-reflected my weary uncertainty. We recorded firing pistols in slow-mo; making me feel a bit better. The tent blew over and now had missing stakes. Andy, Paul, and the caretaker, Marty, helped me consider my options. Shit, that’s where they were: Brooklyn. I put my keys and wallet in Charlie’s ukulele bag when it began to rain on the bonfire.
Surely my items would turn up during cleaning… Charlie and Vicky hugged me goodbye. Darcie commanded the cleaning operation. Where the hell were my keys and wallet?
I awoke next to cooling embers around 4 am, then took my sleeping pad and blanket into the warmth of the back room by the stairs.