Cyndi Palmer: On post-splash memories, game playing and poetry
A Face in the Crowd
I think my shoes finally dried out after they became chilled kiddie pools splashing around from one going on to another in the raging “C Lot” (Utah Junction parking lot) at Mary Jane during (and after) Winter Park Resort’s annual Spring Splash.
Before Sunday’s fun-filled festivities, I thought the party was at The Plaza since Vince Herman and Great American Taxi were over there playing (for a free performance). But I was so wrong. The party was definitely at the C Lot, and I pulled Herman aside before their show to try to get him and his guys over there afterward.
Wouldn’t that have been something?
Many local, dedicated Spring Splash fans came out in droves early Saturday to stake out their parking lot claims for the weekend. The famed C Lot had cars, trucks and campers parked bumper to bumper. I heard there were quite a few die-hard fans who spent Saturday night out there, huddled in front of campfires.
By about 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning, attendants at the entrance to Mary Jane were turning away lines of cars wanting to park up there. My sister and I were lucky to squeeze through after an attendant waved us on (saying she was too tired to deal with our pleas anymore). We woo-hooed and inched in (barely) to a spot friends kept open for us.
All around us were colorful costumes, barbecues, dogs running around, and there were two stages set up for an unheard-of amount of free live music. Before and after the only three or four runs I skied that entire day, I caught the sounds of Soul Feel, and the tunes got hotter and hotter as the gorgeous sun rose and fell that day ” the Sofa Kings, Oly, Hunker Down (who extended their set by request and included crowd favorites like “Beer and Snow”). The live music was rounded out by the boys from One Time (rhythm guitarist Chris “Willy” Williamson started out by saying they were the only band that had a question mark as its ending time and the crowd went wild).
It also was a common sight to see musicians from bands jump in to play with other bands.
I was sorry to have to duck out about 7 p.m. because the place was still hopping.
I had places to go and more incredible people to see, you know. And, despite the fact that I called it an early night (compared to most everyone else it seems) I’m still feeling the effects of all that dancing.
Later in the week – call it beginner’s luck, call it luck of the Irish – my dice throwing came out pretty darn good hanging out with a group of spunky ladies who have formed a local Bunco league. I heard about the club a couple weeks ago and with two substitute spots open I quickly learned the game and enjoyed the food, fun and new friends.
I was a contender for prizes for three out of the four winning categories, including Most Buncos, Most Wins, and I was the last player to end up with the “traveling” fuzzy die in my possession. A couple other women also tied with me for Most Buncos and Most Wins and we debated whether we wanted to share the prize or throw the dice to determine the official winner.
In the end, the only thing I didn’t rank in was Most Losses ” that was determined by a toss-off between a mother and daughter who had originally tied for a coveted bejeweled “Loser” crown (mom Sally won it).
In honor of National Poetry Month and partying:
The Fowl Ball
by “Gregory K.”
I went to the Fowl Ball
Held at stately Barnyard Hall.
The Chicken came. The Duck did not.
The Pheasant danced the Turkey Trot.
The Rooster grabbed the microphone.
The Hen performed on slide trombone.
We laughed and played, a happy group….
And danced until we flew the coop.
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