The Real G Fest
Some lesson-teaching opportunities are found in the strangest places, like after climbing a giant kids bounce house water slide in an inappropriate dress. When my friends and I were walking back to one of their homes after loving the Saturday at the Gilroy Garlic Festival, we passed said slide as it was so awesomely set up in front of a stranger’s house. Kids were delighting in climbing up and sliding down into a pool of water. The men in the yard told our group that if one of us joined in on the slide-capades (my word, not theirs), we all would get free beer. They had me at the invite to be a kid again, though I do like me some free beer.
And so without much thought, obviously, I attempted to climb the ladder side of the giant inflatable contraption. Attempted being the key word. I wrapped my hands around the rope on the right and tried to get my bare feet to get a grip on the little protrusions of material intended to be steps. Attempted and failed, attempted and failed again, and again, and again.
The kids breezed past me like monkeys as I valiantly tried time after time only to end up sliding belly down back to the bottom and in the water. I had a moment where I thought, “Am I seriously not going to be able to do this right now?” But I could not give up! There were kids around. And although I was not at all thinking what my ass hanging out of my dress was teaching them, I was thinking about what my defeat would teach them.
My friend felt the need to document the moment. And yes I was wearing panties, they just happened to be pink ones.
Wet and weak, I finally made it to the top. Once up on the massive piece of plastic, I took a moment to take in the view before zipping down the actual slide part. A girl, maybe around 10, said with some serious sass, “Wow. That was really hard for you.” To which I replied with a smile and genuine pride, “Yes! It really was! But did you see how I didn’t give up?”
Not really sure where to go from there in this blog post. If you want to read my published piece on the Garlic Festival please click here. If you would like to see some more pictures and a more personal take on my weekend, then I invite you to continue experiencing this blog post. If you would like to do neither, I understand. There may be more pressing matters in your life then reading my latest published piece and/or my blog.
This guy picked me up from the Oakland airport, and I was happy about it. He’s one of my besties’ husbands. (The last of my five best girlfriends from high school decided to get married this past summer and winter, and I decided to get a divorce. So their husbands now pitch in on taking care of me when I come to visit.)
I have the world’s biggest crush on this one. He’s one of my besties’ little brothers, so he is off limits.
This is my hot nurse bestie. She impressed me with her band aide applying abilities on the blisters I was destined to get from wearing wedges to the G Fest.
This is my sibling bestie – she found the ice cream wagon on our way back to her house. She is called my sibling bestie because I am so close with her family that her father said during his toast at her wedding, “I want to thank all friends and family who traveled to come today, especially my son Amber from Oregon.” Don’t ask me why he has always called me his son, but he has. My sibling bestie says it’s because he always wanted a son, he has three girls, and when I started becoming so close with their family that is just what he chose to call me. I was worried it was because of certain bodily functions of mine.
This is my cheerleading big sis. I can always count on seeing her G Fest weekend and it is always the highlight of my weekend.
This is me with my commemorative beer mug purchase, which I of course did not make it out of the festival with.
This is my therapist bestie. Yup, she’s a full on marriage and family therapist. She is also Garlic Festival royalty so she was volunteering all weekend. (Hence the composure.)
This is a male friend from high school. He was my festival buddy day two. Had he not been on my eating mission with me, I may have never gotten my piece for publication done.
This is three of the six of us besties from high school enjoying some hammock time. The six of us are called the butterflies as we all have matching butterfly tattoos that we got the night before high school graduation. Okay, one says her’s is on her heart and another chose a different tattoo but you get the point.
This is my hot nurse bestie’s nephew. That whole family takes really good care of me when I come to visit, and the men in that family partly influenced my decision to divorce. I deserve a man like my hot nurse bestie’s brother, her brother in law, and her husband. That family raises and marries truly incredible men. Notice the matchy shirts and matchy hair. I wonder how often he needs to get his roots done.
This is me being an efficient little writer on my flight back to Oregon. Alaska, btw, rocks. The super cute and accommodating stewardess gave me two complimentary beverages but when I asked for wine I didn’t know they only had white wine. I tried it in an attempt to not waste it and one sip gave me hard nipples and goose bumps but not in a good way. The above-and-beyond stewardess gave me another beer and asked that I keep the wine till she came back with the trash bag. Sure, good stewardess, I will look like a total alcoholic for a moment while you continue forward to serve the rest of the plane.
Gilroy Garlic Festival, I will enjoy you again next year. And as much as I love you, I must say that I am glad you only come around once a year. The Gilroy Garlic Festival is the last weekend of July every year and if you ever get an opportunity to come stink it up with me and my Gilroy family – you really should. And no I don’t write about or snap pictures of every interaction I have.