It’s so badly named — maybe that’s why I initially dismissed the notion of FestiFall. Maybe it sounds too much like Festivus (“It’s time for the airing of the grievances!”). I also had no idea the scale of this thing, this street fair on steroids that occuppied our suburban downtown last Sunday.
I hated street fairs when I lived in the city. They were annoying — rerouting us in our car to go around the street closures, slowing us down on foot trying to navigate the crowds. People loved the food but it grossed me out (the Street Meat most of all). People, apparently, also loved to buy socks and underwear off the street and get chair massages in the middle of Amsterdam Avenue. Me, not so much.
But there we were, checking out FestiFall and, for reasons I can’t quite pinpoint, it didn’t bother me at all. Well, except the name.
First, it never hurts when you find something that a three year-old loves. My son was beside himself with excitement over the train ride. The driver looked like he may have just made bail, but no matter — father and son had a great time circling the bank parking lot.
And the baby kicked back, remaining a total trooper, despite us totally disrespecting her nap time so as not to sacrifice our killer FestiFall parking spot. Priorities.
Our son then surprised both of us by scaling the forboding “Tree House” — you know, those massive inflatable slides that defy inertia and gravity. He’s kind of skittish about a lot of things, so we were totally skeptical that his “I want to go on the slide” would actually result in a trip down to completion. Score one for the three year-old…he was a champ, though I was convinced by his face that he had that moment of inertia and gravity doubt on the way down. I’m sure he must have envisioned himself launching off the slide into the middle of Elm St.
Here’s his moment of truth. See him way up there?
On the shopping front, no underwear or socks for sale. No chair massages. Lots of home improvement companies — general contractors, landscapers, masons. So there was my husband, comparison shopping for a finished basement in the middle of a street fair. But I managed to pick up some great photographs of Spain and Portugal from a local artist that I think may be the missing links to pull the family room together. I’ve looked high and low — who knew to scour the FestiFall (ugh, the name) for home decor?
And, last but not least, if you’ve never had a deep fried Oreo, you’re really missing out.
Yeah, I know it looks like fried calamari here but it was damn good. Maybe Street Meat is not too far in my future after all.
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