Hippies, banjos, and marijuana. What else could draw more of a crowd from the Pacific Northwest than such an alluring trifecta of good feelings? Even God graced the festival with partially sunny weather, and redneck evangelists wielding less than inspiring signs reminding us that Jesus still forgives our sins.
I arrived early. Took a quick stroll around the Seattle Center just in time to see the booths setting up. Finally made my way under a tree looking up at the Space Needle, and took a nap listening to Led Zepplin while waiting for my friends to arrive. Yes, I do have friends in this town, which I now call home with only a slight reservation. It has been a while since I was able to smell the grass beneath my back, while I dozed off under the gentle cloud filtered UV rays combined with the dulcet tones of Jimmy Page.
No need to be jealous. My ability to self-entertain took years of self-delusion to convince myself that a nerdy Asian with glasses in a worn out sports jacket rocking the air guitar is acceptable public behavior.
It wasn't too long after before I was joined by the Scooby Gang. Food was the first priority, as it often was with some of us. We walked past the Glass Museum, the fake Native Americans, the Darth Vader, and let our olfactory senses lead us through the crowds. First course was Hawaiian BBQ, followed by funnel cake, lumpia, smoothies, and cotton candy. I'm not saying we're a bunch of pigs, but the amount of food we were able to consume would be considered anomalous by human standards. No regrets.
We stopped by a crowd, just in time to see sword swallower Justin slowly lowering his espada down into his abdomen. Some cheered, some averted their eyes. I gave him five bucks. It's not easy making a living by subjecting your internal organs to sharp cold steel on a daily basis. But I suppose that's what folks do at the folklife festival.
Amidst the country jingles from acoustic guitars and fiddles, my ears perked up at the dirty distortions of an electric guitar from a distant concert. Surprisingly, what I assumed to be a late nineties era grunge rock concert originated from the kid's area surrounded by jump ropes and legos. I was completely floored after I cut through the crowd only to see the booming falsetto piercing my eardrums came from a kid no older than 13 years old. It was amazing to watch. The front man/child had energy rivaling Axel Rose in his heyday, interacting with the crowd and the band like a veteran despite looking like Justin Beiber. The drums were clean and on point leading into a great guitar solo.
Performances like this gives me hope for the future of humanity. When we can teach our kids to able to not only appreciate, but skillful enough to perform what the Black Sabbath did back almost five decades ago (and I'm not talking about biting the head off of a living bat, that's gross Ozzy), we know we are doing something right.
(The kids were from Bellevue School of Rock. Linked a performance if you are curious).
Next stop was an intro into Argentinian Tango. My partner was Grace, an older lady who was obviously very excited to learn the sexy dance. I was just hoping I looked half as cool as Al Pacino did in Scent of a Woman. The move was a simple parada, and the lead has it pretty easy. We just stop, shift our weight from the right to the left while the ladies do their thang. Grace was very giggly as I kept her from falling quite a few times.
Dancing is rather an interesting activity. Implicit in the motions are trust and a sense of fabricated intimacy. Despite having met this stranger who was at least 20 years my elder for only a few minutes, a few glides and missteps across the dance floor later, I was able to predict her movements and where her weight was going to be. And I could tell she trusted me. We communicated by subtle squeeze of the hand or a slight bracing of my right arm as I know she might need to lean right or left in the next moment. We were partners for half an hour, and it was fun.
After the dance lesson, it was time to chill on the grass. We picked an open spot away from children facing the roads, and enjoyed ourselves. To our right and left were two folk bands with some guitars and banjos providing just the right amount of background music. Behind us, the disciples were breaking their vocal chords trying to cut through all the good feelings to bring us the word of God. I took a deep breath, looked at the kids playing hacky sack in front of us. This is surreal.
"You know we're living in a cliche right now right?" I turned to Alex.
"Yeah?"
"We might as well be back in the 60s."
"Just take in the moment."
And I did.
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