A Ten-Foot Tall Fire

Apologies for the lateness of this post . . .

After dropping off our baggage at Simpson, with Lucas claiming the bed furthest from the door and me claiming the floor, we headed over to Whitley to pick up the rest of our entourage, only to be faced with the new house mother of Whitley, one Judith S., and her rapidly shrinking patience with her son, the Hon. J. We sorted out the fracas, and were greeted upon our exit with a vision--fireworks that were visible over the top of the Sage Center for the Arts. Hillsdale had certainly changed in the time I had been gone--they had never, ever had the wherewithal to launch fireworks before, not even when Arrrrrrn became pres. Surf and Turf in a giant tent on the quad, yes, but fireworks, no.

Instead of trying to get over to the field and see the 'works, we simply watched them from the lawn, then headed over when they were complete. What greeted us was a scene of well-organized chaos, with a crowd of folks who seemed like little children milling around a blaze that reached far up into the heavens. I could tell that I was getting old--the whole thing seemed loud and hot to me, rather than exciting and intimidating. After milling through the crowd several times, J and I managed to locate a cotton candy vendor, a young man who seemed more interested in chatting up the ladies at the popcorn next to us than getting us our free pink stuff.

After handing me a small stick, he turned once again to the popcorn ladies, putting the empty stick in his mouth in an attempt, no doubt, to look "cool." When J asked him for some cotton candy of his own, the young man took the stick out of his mouth , ran it around the inside of the machine several times, and handed it to J , never once stopping to look at us, acknowledge us--indeed, to even think about what he was doing.

J and I loooked at each other. "I can't believe I just saw that," I said. "Me either," said J , delicately taking a bite out of his candy. "I'll just eat the outside of this," J continued.

Re-rendesvouing with the group, Jacob decided that he wanted to sumo wrestle one of us. Always up to the challenge, I stepped into the dewey circle, only to be unceremoniously dumped on my kiester for the first fall. Must be that Samoan blood in Jacob--he was a deceptively strong wrestler! In the interests of full disclosure, I managed to take him down once or twice at the end, when he was tired--always a good strategy.

The party ended when the fire attendants began blasting the blaze with water, resulting in a pillar of smoke that would do the LORD proud. Tony finished up his interview with the Collegian, and we all headed back to our respective places, wondering what would happen next. Little did we realize the fury that awaited us. . .

Next: Five Seconds of Fury and A Day at the Game