So I wrote this a few weeks ago, and should be read as one would read it during Ichthus weekend.
Why hello again all you children. Something that you guys out there in cyberspace may not know is that I’m a slight music junkie… and by that I mean that I find it hard to get through a day without the stuff. It’s not quite like a drug yet, but I love listening to and playing music. Now, I know it’s been a while since I’ve written to you a part of onml, but I wanted to save it for this weekend.
What’s special about this weekend? There’s a simple answer to that question: a little fish looking symbol, the city that always sleeps ceases to sleep, and human-shaped cows stalk little children in hopes of snaring unsuspecting foreigners into eating their arch-rival, the chicken. That’s right guys, this weekend is Ichthus Festival 2011. Ichthus, for those who don’t know, is a special weekend that happens only one time a year. A little town called Wilmore reaches its max population during this week, due to tens of thousands of people gathering for a Christian Music fest. This is also known as the weekend that the four horsemen decide to eructate snow, gale force winds, tornadoes, hale, flying cheetahs, etc. onto Wilmore. You might think I’m exaggerating, but mihi certe, my friends, I kid you not, even the cheetah part happened. Okay, that’s a lie, there aren’t any cheetahs within an hour of here.
Every year, with the exception of last, has been a great time for crops to grow along with the local flora to drown. I kid you not; we get all of our rain here when Ichthus rolls about. I remember a few years ago, I was working during the first night (Wednesday). When I walked outside, I thought the sun had already set, and I thought to myself, “Huh, it got dark early.” Then, I noticed the giant black brick of a cloud rolling across the sky like a very angry Michelin man. That year in this tiny little town of Wilmore, something very similar to the past years erupted out of the belly of the beast: A huge-a** storm. For the first time in my life, I was being caused pain by leaves flying around in the air. Imagine being hugged and lifted into the air by thousands of woodland nymphs, and that’s how it felt. But they weren’t benign fairies of old; they were razor-sharp leaves. And they weren’t exactly lifting me in the air, more like slicing themselves across my face as I tried to get in the car.
That was my experience, and it was bad. However, the people out a mile from town at the actual site of the festival had a completely different story. It snowed in the middle of July… I was shocked. There were tornadoes too, and the festival happens on a gravel lot. I’m sure everyone loved the sandblasting they got from that. When it was all done and over, the survivors gathered their tattered remains and climbed out of the valley to safety. It was a truly horrifying sight, much like the Uruk-hi had opened a breeding ground there. Mud-covered, raw-throated zombies were all that emerged, after pulling themselves out of 6 feet of pure mud. The next year, they rightfully named the festival as “Let It Rain.” However, due to a slight miscalculation of size, there was no rain that year, and their pride was swallowed by a small dog.
This sounds horrible doesn’t it? I can only imagine that it is for most people who go. But, if you ever get the urge to people watch, come to Wilmore during Ichthus and you will surely meet some ridiculous characters. Goth Mom is my favorite (last year, her daughter got lost in town with her coffin).
No comments:
Post a Comment