“Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad.” Fyodor Dostoevsky
A man wearing only one flip flop, sits slumped over on a bench resting the side of his head on a oak tree about 20 feet from the main stage. He is wearing a black shirt with a red confederate flag on the front that says, “You’ve got your X, we’ve got ours.”
There are other men in only slightly better condition standing behind him drinking Budweiser from cans and smoking pot from a one-hitter that slides into a belt buckle. Behind them, a normal looking mom and dad with three young sons eat fried foods on extra-large toothpicks.
The weather is beautiful. It’s about 80 degrees, sunny with no clouds and very little humidity. The kind of weather that keeps the tourists around until the snow melts in their northern hometowns. The kind of weather that keeps the tourists clogging my streets while I try not to succumb to massive road rage.
“If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me,” is the Lynyrd Skynrd song being played by the band. About 25 to 30 people attempt to dance to the country anthem, but really just sway back and forth spilling beer on their feet without a care. A rough, biker looking couple wades through the crowd with a pet python wrapped around both of their necks. Little children run up to pet it, while others run away and grab their mother’s legs. Continue reading