I know many things about myself (more than most do I expect) and one of my defining traits is a general intolerance of crowds. The bemusing thing is that I occasionally feel the need to test this aversion by attending events that will be filled with mindless herds of people...more evidence for a masochistic alter-ego nesting in my subconscious. This weekend's attempt was the Taste of Colorado, an annual community celebration in downtown Denver featuring every restaurant and cuisine that has made a name for itself in this mountain city.
As my friend, Andrea, and I walked through the festival flags, I was pleased to see that the hippie-handicrafts had come out to play, too. The streets were wedged full of heavily-scented, superfluous sashes, candles, jewelry, and cultural artifacts. Streams of people flowed through the corridors creating a human current that would involve way too much personal-space-violation to swim against. We floated toward the food stalls. Naturally, everything was over-priced but it was interesting to see the bustle of preparation. For some reason, food is more appetizing when watching its development; in the same way that it is dangerous to watch the food network or grocery-shop when hungry, spectating the street kitchens made it inevitable that I buy something. A HUGE yellow banner in the distance decided it for me: TURKEY LEGS! Long had I heard legends of turkey-leg deliciousness from renaissance-going friends but I had never had the opportunity to try one myself. My mission became clear: acquire turkey leg at all costs.
As my friend, Andrea, and I walked through the festival flags, I was pleased to see that the hippie-handicrafts had come out to play, too. The streets were wedged full of heavily-scented, superfluous sashes, candles, jewelry, and cultural artifacts. Streams of people flowed through the corridors creating a human current that would involve way too much personal-space-violation to swim against. We floated toward the food stalls. Naturally, everything was over-priced but it was interesting to see the bustle of preparation. For some reason, food is more appetizing when watching its development; in the same way that it is dangerous to watch the food network or grocery-shop when hungry, spectating the street kitchens made it inevitable that I buy something. A HUGE yellow banner in the distance decided it for me: TURKEY LEGS! Long had I heard legends of turkey-leg deliciousness from renaissance-going friends but I had never had the opportunity to try one myself. My mission became clear: acquire turkey leg at all costs.
Beyond fulfilling a life-long dream in greasy fashion, I also developed the unique ability to inspire love in all canines; they followed me like I was a donut in fat camp, though with slightly less drool. It was about this time that I realized exactly how intolerable this situation was: blubbery arms brushed mine, smells of a non-culinary nature permeated my nose, and micro-bursts of rage at insignificant things began popping in my head. When you're 3 this means nap-time; at 25, it meant our adventure downtown was over. So I fled from the hordes of people to the safety and splendid isolation of my couch and it is from this safe distance that I will relish my turkey-leg victory until I next feel the need to torture myself.
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