Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Location: United States

Sunday, July 24, 2005

You are the One, Neo John. You see, you may have spent the last few years looking for me, but I have spent my entire life looking for you.

So, we went out to the Golden Days street fair. Golden Days is the local summer celebration of all things Fairbanks, primarily its gold rush history. No better way to do than with a street fair and with a rubber duck race. We were going to go to the parade as well, but our little blonde alarm clock, The Boy, failed to get up at his usual time. There's always next year.

We saw the gentlemen pictured above at the street fair (click on the picture to see a closer view, I mean, if you really want to). Paging Dr. Freud! The first thought I had when I saw these gentleman was: "Okay, am I going to turn into Agent Smith?"

I noticed I wasn't trembling or anything, so I assumed that instead of being super-secret alternate reality agents, these were just three 19 year-olds dressing strangely and acting goofy. One of them kept making a sound like an eagle screeching. They weren't being profane or anything, so, I'd put this down as good, poorly washed (it can't be good, clean fun if they're not clean), "I can't get a date" fun.

The Mrs., The Boy and I walked around the street fair. We pushed The New Boy in the stroller, because heaven knows you wouldn't want to carry him, since he now weighs 70 American pounds (that's like 6 kilograms) at only ten weeks of age. He eats more than a teenager right now, and it's all we can do to keep him from eating our cat. Where is Fluffy, anyway?

The street fair consisted of lots of booths selling art, bratwurst, and t-shirts. They surrounded the central statue in Golden Heart Plaza as shown below. There were two booths selling toys, but if The Boy (4.75328 years old) doesn't even recognize the things they were selling as toys, you know there's a problem.

A band played in the background, but they weren't loud. They were fun to listen to, but would have been excellent if they had backended the country sets with some Iron Maiden. We went around the fair twice, and then headed home. More wood to cut.

The most annoying thing about the fair was that a man who looked a lot like Laurence Fishburne kept following me around offering me some jellybeans and saying,
"This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes."
Whatever that means. If it means I'll have to dress all in black, I think I'll have to pass. I had black parachute pants in the 1980's. We really don't want to go there, do we?


Blogger Woofwoof said...

That first picture convinced me that we should spend more on mental health support. They must have let Uncle Billy out again.

9:57 PM  
Blogger Garry Nixon said...

Those lads are OK; they wouldn't be noticed round here - a trifle last-century, if anything.

But those two in the grey shirts in the second picture! Lock their fridge up and get them chopping logs, NOW!

6:42 AM  
Blogger the Witch said...

And then you woke up with all of your hair shaved off and tubes sucking the life force out of you all to a killer techno soundtrack...

Ok - I just gave it away didn't I? Fine, I admit it - I'm a geek.

4:22 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I don't remember your parachute pants.

Perhaps I'm better at blocking memories than I thought.

10:10 PM  
Blogger Mary said...

I see you've found the joy of Fairbanks summer street fairs: the gallery of unfortunate fashion choices.

For real fun, go the the Tanana Valley Fair. You'd never know so many goths and punks lived in Interior Alaska, but they all show up for the fair.

10:38 AM  
Blogger John said...

Uncle Billy was caught by Fairbanks PD last night. All is well.

Yup. They're doing what every teenage boy has done since we climbed out the trees . . . attempting to get attention. Yeah, I noticed the second set after I posted . . .

You . . . mean . . . it's all . . . fake???? Nooooooooooooooo!

Got 'em in Georgia with the NHS exchange trip. I wore them to look like David Coverdale, what with my long, flowing locks and all. "Is this love . . . "

I'm still waiting to see my first Goth parka. For that matter, I can't imagine the lip rings our young friends were wearing are at all comfy at -50.

7:55 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Believe it or not, guys with that fashion sensibility get dates all the time. Lots of girls - and guys - dog their "sensitive" nature.

Please don't ask me how I know. Just be happy I've changed a lot since adolescence ...

3:17 AM  
Blogger GoGo said...

I hate it when im walking down the street and my shirt slides off without me knowing. And my friends dont point it out.

Just like the guy on the right in fact!

This might explain why i often end up completely naked by the time i get home?

12:10 PM  
Blogger John said...

I can see that - you know, going for the rebel sort of thing. Unfortunately, my rebellion was primarily refusing to wear my collar up on my polo shirt . . . (shudder)

I am *still* laughing. But, often, unless you're driving a stolen moped brandishing a sword naked, getting home naked is a good thing. :)

6:07 PM  
Blogger Hoso said...

I have a goofy goober brother. Instead of calling me he puts crazy pictures of others up. What's up John? Broncos started t-camp today. Call me. Hoso.

7:11 PM  

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