Irish Festival (cont'd)

I was gonna go on and on about all the trivial stuff that happened at the Irish Festival, but if you've been to a festival, you know what goes on. There was a little weirdness at the beginning when they wouldn't take my debit card for admission, and I had to get a ride with a nice guy in a little golf cart, to get money from the ATM inside. I felt like a VIP. Well, as much of a VIP as you can feel riding around in a little golf cart with a complete stranger. And I paid the nice guy, who very well could have pocketed my admission money, but I got in so what did I care? Maybe he had himself a nice dinner on my eighteen bucks.

What I really wanted to write about took place later, after we'd been there a few hours. We'd listened to different bands, walked around, checked out the Celtic tapestries and interesting mirrored wall decorations. I saw a sterling silver ring I liked, but they didn't have my size. I discovered Karen and I have similar tastes in a lot of things, so it was fun comparing finds to each other and just sharing the experience of being someplace new.

It was also nice seeing Karen and Gary interacting and each being interested in what they were going to do next. After each band, they'd check out the program and see who else was playing and where. Gary was as excited as Karen to hear someone new, someone they'd never heard before. They'd read the descriptions and decide where to go, who to listen to. You could see they were both into it. I never got the feeling one was dragging the other around or someone was along reluctantly. They were just happy to be doing something together... sharing something together. It struck a chord. And perhaps put me in the introspective mood I inhabited for the rest of the evening.

Later, sitting in one of the big tents waiting for another band, I spent some time just looking around at the crowd. Karen and Gary enjoyed this, too, and the three of us (Cory, being eighteen and not accustomed to sitting still for very long, had taken off on his own in search of yet more food.) sat around for a while watching people, observing and making interesting comments. For about twenty minutes, a group of guys in their late teens stood in front of us while we were sitting and relaxing between bands. One guy had on those big, floppy shorts with all the pockets (I own a pair or two myself... very comfy.). His back pocket was hanging wide open and there was all this woodchip stuff all over the floor of the tent. Well, it was just too tempting for me, so I starting tossing little woodchips in his pocket. I proudly made about three shots out of ten, which isn't bad for a sport I've never practiced. Karen soon joined in, and the two of us sat there filling up this guy's pocket with mulch, speculating on his mother's reaction when she pulls his shorts out of the hamper later on in the week, and giggling like little kids. Others around us noticed, smiled appreciatively and seemed on the verge of joining in. Soon, though, our baggy trousered guy left with his buddies and we were without amusement.

About nine o'clock, a band called Gaelic Storm was doing their sound checks, which was extremely entertaining. Each band member came out and tried their own instrument and tested the microphones. Not content to limit their utterances to the typical, "Check, one, two, three. Check, one. Check, check," they soon ventured into short previews of the humor we'd hear from them once they started playing. Everyone in the crowd was rivited to this band's sound check procedure for the next fifteen minutes. Once they appeared, the actual music was no disappointment.

As opposed to some of the other bands I'd heard that day, who played predominantly modern Irish rock, this band combined traditional Irish instruments and beats with more new age and primitive rhythms. I was mesmerized from the start. I'm a sucker for drums, and this guy was great on the drum set as well as all the hand drums. And most women in the audience had their eyes glued to the bagpiper.

During Swimming in the Sea, I sat with my mouth open, watching them up there just having fun and listening to all the different sounds blending together and watching the crowd watching the band and everyone just singing and swaying and really feeling it, and I began to cry. I do this sometimes. Being in a crowd of people who are losing themselves in music and letting the music get inside me often brings tears to my eyes. I had this experience listening to a gospel choir once, too. There's something about witnessing the sheer enjoyment of others that just brings something up for me. I was euphoric (and hadn't been drinking any of that really bitter liquid the Irish call beer). It was just one of those moments where I feel one with the universe.

Eventually, their set ended and Karen and I immediately made our way over to the CD table. She bought one. I bought one. I've been listening to it ever since, but there's just something about the live experience and sharing that moment with hundreds of other people that a CD can never capture.

Afterward, we went to find Cory to bring him back to the tent. On the way, still feeling very full of everything I'd experienced, I noticed a white trailer, presumably belonging to one of the vendors. It was dark by then and there was a spotlight somewhere that cast precise shadows onto this trailer, of a small group of people standing in front of it. I walked over and started making shadow puppets. And then Karen did, too. And one of the guys in the small group of people joined us, and soon there we all were, a group of people who've never met and may never see each other again, sharing a moment of spontaneous hand puppeting.

I stayed for Hair of the Dog (not particularly impressed) and left about 10:30. It was a good day.