We went to an annual street fair last night. Walking down the middle of a 4 lane boulevard is always fun. It was mostly predictable in a pleasant enough way.
The food trucks all had block-long lines, except for the one that didn't. Uh oh.
There was a quartet(te) of pretty women in 40s outfits doing some excellent Lennon Sisters harmonies. They're there every year but it could be a different bunch each time. Who can tell?
We were half a block past the singers when I saw tubas. Auntie loves a good tuba. These tubas had skinny tweenagers in them. Not auspicious, but we were too close not to hear.
We heard.
It was eerily familiar.
I couldn't place it, mostly because I was transfixed by the barely 14 year olds and their anachronistic brass instruments. Marching band? Really? In 2017?
Then I recognized the tune. Seven Nation Army.
ON TUBAS!
Brilliant.
We even saw a fat old guy with scraggly waist length white hair and matching beard, in a red striped t-shirt and shiny red basketball shorts. Obviously off-duty.
Aside from the veritable plethora of dogs both in and out of costume, my fave was the ugly guy with the beatific smile who had pastel twinkly lights woven into his dreadlocks. Or maybe it was the octet of tiny little girls in stunning Chiapas style dresses dancing with perfect synchronization and very serious expressions.
The comedy moment was a snippet of conversation as we squeezed through the lumbering crowd. I never saw who said it, but there was both resignation and conviction in her tone:
"Yeah, he's an asshole but at least he knows how to work it."
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