It rained Friday night.
It rained all day Saturday and into the night.
Sunday dawned gray and cold and windy and drizzly and miserable.
I think I had cabin fever. I woulda shot six holes in my freezer, except I don’t have, you know, a gun.
But by 2 p.m. the sun finally broke through. The wind abated (somewhat).
And I said to myself:
Myself I said: What say we take little bike ride to First Mag?
Myself did not dissent.
It was hours before, you know, The Big Game. But after 36 hours of miserable weather, GNV was already getting antsy.
Swinging by Bo Diddley Plaza I stopped and admired a sort of group dance-exercise- primal therapy session. They even had a DJ to egg them on.
Pushing on to Depot Park I found a beehive of activity involving hula hoops, the world’s most stickered car, a kid determined to break into the DJ biz and a raccoon who apparently didn’t want anybody to climb all over love. (For the record, I wasn’t gonna.)
I saw a woman who could do wonders with a little acoustic backup and some very fluid blue fabric indeed.
Not to detract from the animal rights activists right next door who were chalking up the sidewalk with “think about this meat lovers” messages.
Meanwhile, on the nearby grassy knoll, a gaggle of young women were celebrating (and I am not making this up) ‘Gal’entine’s Day.
Long story short. Got to First Mag. Had a beer. Headed home.
Saw that they were already gearing up for the whole SB Thing at The Swamp.
Not to mention at The Social, where there was standing room only.
Is this a great town or what?
FreeGNV 