I know what you're thinking. Two blogs in just as many days, is it even possible. Well, I assure you that it won't become a habit. But I experienced something so wonderfully entertaining that I thought I should, nay, I felt compelled to share with you.
Last Friday evening, I took my beautiful bride of ten years, three weeks and five days to the Hollywood Bowl to see the world renowned and academy award winning composer John Williams conduct the L.A. Philharmonic Orchestra. The theme of the show was "The Music of the Movies". It was a wonderful delight. John Williams was engaging and incredibly talented. The Concert Mistress was exceptional and her violin solo in the theme to Fiddler on the Roof was nothing short of brilliant. I was completely inundated with culture.
I am not opposed to culture. I just don't find it as entertaining as some people do. But this was spectacular. Even though I am not a musical person in the strictest sense (I don't play an instrument or even read music for that matter), I was able to appreciate the difficulty of the performance before me.
But that isn't what I wanted to share with you today. I would rather instead share with you the counter-culture. I knew going into this that there was going to be some people here that I, under normal circumstances, wouldn't spend time with. But I was woefully unprepared for the experience with which I was confronted. I am a fan of the movies. I loved to be entertained. I love to entertain. I would have loved to be an actor and take any chance I get to be one (which usually means Church Christmas plays and the annual comedy night fundraiser I used to run as the youth pastor). But while I am a fan, I am not fanatical.
One of the souvenirs you could purchase was a light saber. They were available because John Williams, of course, wrote the music for Star Wars. But the people I saw weren't going to waste their money on those. Not because of some sense of fiscal responsibility, but because of a lack of authenticity. That's right, they weren't real enough. As we milled about in the lines for entrance and snacks, I noticed an incredibly high number of people with their very own light sabers. Some had the ones you build yourself at Disneyland or some other star wars shoppe. But some had very expensive looking replicas. I laughed to myself because I thought it was a little comical, not that they owned those things, but that they brought them. But those people were the sanest ones of the bunch.
As we progressed toward our seats, I saw a woman with a t-shirt on that had the picture of a woman's body decked out in the Princess Leia/Jabba's palace prisoner outfit. She had her hair done up in the same way that Leia did in the Return of the Jedi. The guy with her (who I can only assume was a relative or gay) was wearing a t-shirt that resembled Darth Vader's breastplate complete with light up panel and glowing tubes running over it. I thought okay, the light saber was cute but that this was over doing it a bit. They didn't prove to be the craziest of the bunch.
Then I saw a guy dressed just like Indiana Jones. I thought that was too far. However, I rationalized in my mind that I also own a pair of khaki pants and a white shirt and while I possess neither the hat nor the satchel, it wasn't unreasonable to think that someone may own these things separately and threw them together as a laugh. But this was just the tip of the weird iceberg.
I then saw a guy who defied rational thought. He was dressed as a "Padawan apprentice" (if I misspelled that-I am glad I don't know its proper spelling and couldn't care less). If you are going to dress up as a movie character, how low must your self esteem be if you are willing to be the guy who doesn't have any cool powers or know anything? That just screamed pathetic to me. But this guy wasn't even the worst.
While one of the three Star Wars songs was being played that night some guy dressed up like a storm trooper jumped up in the aisle and began to dance up and down the stairs. He was comical and entertaining but I thought it was appropriate for him since he no doubt was laughed at a lot when he was a child (which he probably still is, at least maturity-wise). But this guy still wasn't the main attraction.
No that spot is reserved for the guy who showed up in a complete Jedi outfit. From the boots to the belt to the long grown out hair (a la Liam Neeson's Qui-Gon Jinn-again if I misspelled, I don't care). But the piece de resistance was his hand made custom light saber. I have read a Star Wars book or two (I'm not drinking the kool-aid, I just enjoy good FICTION!) and I learned that part of a Jedi's final training is building his own light saber. I have no doubt that this is exactly what this guy did. The best part was how he stood at perfect attention, light saber in hand and held perfectly straight in front of him. The devotion and reverence which he displayed would lead one to believe that John Williams was at the very heart of the rebel alliance.
I laughed within myself and out loud on quite a few occasions as the ridiculousness struck me repeatedly like a speeder cruising over a womp rat. But the thought that struck me the funniest and what I will leave you with now, is this: Between all of the Star Wars geeks, err...fans and the gay guys that flock to musicals like the "salmon of Capistrano", I was very confident that I was one of the only guys in that entire crowd who has actually kissed a girl!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
My Knott's Bloggy Farm
As I've mentioned in the past I'm a youth pastor, or at least I was- until August 1st at which time I relinquished my title as Supreme Commander of the Youth Group and returned to civilian life. But while the title yet remained, it was incumbent upon me to do various things with my teenagers, not the least of which was taking them on our yearly trek to Knott's Berry Farm, this being one of our final activities with the teens.
Now I'm more of a Disneyland man (not sure if those words are often said together) myself, but in the interest of equal time I do attend other amusement parks. Such was the case on this beautiful summer day. We loaded up the bus with thirteen teens and two leaders and went to the old berry farm once owned by the Knott's family.
I've got several rules I implement when taking my teens to an amusement park. Some youth guys force their kids to stay with them the whole day. I do not. I feel that if they don't want to be around me then I don't want to be around them. I let them go off in groups of no less than four. If they get stuck with a kid they don't necessarily want to hang out with all day then they cannot ditch them. By the same token the loner kids cannot allow themselves to be ditched. Both instances will find all parties involved facing the wrath and judgment of their youth pastor, who can be pretty mean when he needs to be, or so I'm told-I generally blackout for brief periods of time after someone upsets me. When I awake I find my shirt missing, my pants ripped and turned purple and the faintest hue of green ebbing from the surface of my skin). I also do not tolerate tardiness. If you force me to wait more than 5 minutes, I will force you to walk the whole way home (which is a real bummer when we go to college days in OKC).
Once I send my kids off to go play (inevitably some will stick around because I am that awesome) I turn my attention to the flotsam and jetsam of theme park attendees.
This day did not disappoint.
One of the attractions common with all parks (whether they be theme, amusement or carnival style) is the opportunity to try your hand at some random game in the attempt to win a small, medium or large plush toy. Firstly, their games were pretty dumb. You could try your hand at a basketball game where you attempted a three point contest with extremely over inflated balls and a rim that was half the size of a standard rim (although I must confess it is hilarious to watch some punk who thinks he's better than Kobe make fewer shots than a little girl who uses every ounce of strength just to get it close). If that doesn't do it for you, you can try to kick a soccer ball into a small net that is being guarded by a comical (if not somewhat stereotypical and racially insensitive) cardboard cutout of a Mexican goalie that is bigger than the goal! As terrible as the games are, they are surpassed by the prizes you could win. Most of the plush toys were versions of various South Park characters. I don't really see this appealing to anyone but stoners and very immature guys who think that sort of thing is funny enough to watch more than 30 seconds. As you may have guessed I'm not a fan of the show nor do I think anybody should watch it. But I certainly think it's inappropriate to serve as a prize that your kids will want you to win for them. If you play some of the more expensive and thus more challenging games, you could win an electric guitar. Really?! As if it wasn't difficult enough to lug around a giant stuffed animal, now a kid has got to potentially carry around a musical instrument like he's waiting for a music producer to spring from the bushes and offer him a recording contract if he can play a song for him in the next 30 seconds.
The park workers also seemed to enjoy their jobs significantly less than their Disneyland counterparts. They walk around like zombies crashing after a red bull high and if they happen to engage you in conversation it is the weirdest thing you'll hear all day.
Allow me to illustrate. I went on Boomerang with one of my seniors and while standing in line, a rather portly park worker approached us and stepped inside his little area with a small control box. Once safely inside his outlined square of caution, he proceeded to lift a chain across the opening and latch it. It struck me as funny, being a large man myself, that this tiny wisp of a chain (that somewhat resembled the chain of a pocket watch) would securely hold him in place should he lose his balance and tumble towards the opening of his box o' safety. So I said, "There, now don't you feel safe?” Now there are two types of fat people: the ones who are jovial and love to laugh as much as they love deep fried everything (see my previous post for more on that) and there are the ones who live in their mom's basement. They usually exhibit a lack of social skills and/or anti social behavior and carry with them an in-depth and intimate knowledge of role playing games and World of Warcraft. My friend the park employee was the latter which was obvious when he replied thusly, "It's a safety measure, sir." Really, I didn't realize that, I thought it was a barrier to keep out the tens of people who want your job!
I happened to be wearing a Batman shirt and this sparked his interest greatly. He asked me (in more of a statement) if I was a DC comics fan, being sure to add that he preferred Marvel. I am a fan of Batman and Superman (my personal favorite is the Green Lantern) but I don't choose sides. So I said, "I don't get caught up in the whole east coast/west coast thing" (A reference that sailed over his head by three or four feet). Undaunted by my reference to pop culture, he then said, "Okay, then, who do you think would win in a fight: Batman or Superman?"
I was taken aback at first as I stared unblinking trying to figure out if he really just asked me that. I was looking for the worm hole to Jr. High and the Van Damme vs. Seagal debate. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that I answered him or if my answer made a compelling argument. I said, "Batman! Superman may be supernaturally strong but he has a weakness that makes him mortal and when he's like that, he's kind of a wuss! Whereas, Batman has proven that he can endure getting the crap beat out of him and still rise victorious." He didn't say much, just, "I've never thought of that." He then told us to keep our hands inside the car and enjoy the rest of our day at Knott's. As the coaster left the platform he had a look on his face as though his entire world paradigm had been altered. When we returned to the platform he was nowhere to be seen and his replacement said he muttered something about the foundations of his life being shaken and needing some deep fried butter. He's probably in his basement abode on his inflatable couch curled up in the fetal position desperately clutching his superhero dolls-err-action figures to his chest.
At lunch, I returned to the park entrance to meet with my teens. While waiting for the waifs to arrive I noticed a commotion at the turnstile. A security guard was standing there with arms folded looking down disapprovingly as a Brazilian man argued his case. One of the rules is that no outside food is allowed in the park. This man tried to circumnavigate this rule by hiding a bag of Doritos and a tray of Chips Ahoy cookies in a Brazilian team soccer jacket. While I feel that the greater offense was desecrating the snack foods by concealing them in soccer paraphernalia, the park takes a dim view of rule breakers. It seems that when the ticket checker discovered the food she accidentally dropped his jacket on the ground. He decided that this was the most egregious error of all and attempted to deflect attention from his crime by asking to see as many park officials as he could to whom he could plead his case. One by one they came all the way up the chain of command and as they did he demonstrated what happened to each one of them. He would tell them how angry he was that the bag checker dropped his jacket on the ground and then he would act it out. He must have rubbed that jacket on the ground no less than 10 times in demonstration. His chief complaint was that they soiled the collar and that it would need to be dry-cleaned. He demanded that Knott’s pay for it. From my vantage point I could clearly see the stain on his collar and I am convinced it was nothing more than sweat. The park attendants held their ground on the jacket and eventually gave in on the snack food allowing him to keep it as long as he didn't eat it and find a respectable sports jacket in which to hide them. I was a little disappointed that they acquiesced so easily but perhaps when dealing with someone as unstable as a soccer fan one must be as cautious as possible.
There is so much more I could bore you with but not much of it compares to the plump park person or the furious food hiding foreigner. So I leave you with that and set out on my next blog. Tonight I go to the Hollywood Bowl to see John Williams conduct an orchestra playing music from the movies he's scored. Maybe this one won't take me two months....but I wouldn't hold your breath!
Now I'm more of a Disneyland man (not sure if those words are often said together) myself, but in the interest of equal time I do attend other amusement parks. Such was the case on this beautiful summer day. We loaded up the bus with thirteen teens and two leaders and went to the old berry farm once owned by the Knott's family.
I've got several rules I implement when taking my teens to an amusement park. Some youth guys force their kids to stay with them the whole day. I do not. I feel that if they don't want to be around me then I don't want to be around them. I let them go off in groups of no less than four. If they get stuck with a kid they don't necessarily want to hang out with all day then they cannot ditch them. By the same token the loner kids cannot allow themselves to be ditched. Both instances will find all parties involved facing the wrath and judgment of their youth pastor, who can be pretty mean when he needs to be, or so I'm told-I generally blackout for brief periods of time after someone upsets me. When I awake I find my shirt missing, my pants ripped and turned purple and the faintest hue of green ebbing from the surface of my skin). I also do not tolerate tardiness. If you force me to wait more than 5 minutes, I will force you to walk the whole way home (which is a real bummer when we go to college days in OKC).
Once I send my kids off to go play (inevitably some will stick around because I am that awesome) I turn my attention to the flotsam and jetsam of theme park attendees.
This day did not disappoint.
One of the attractions common with all parks (whether they be theme, amusement or carnival style) is the opportunity to try your hand at some random game in the attempt to win a small, medium or large plush toy. Firstly, their games were pretty dumb. You could try your hand at a basketball game where you attempted a three point contest with extremely over inflated balls and a rim that was half the size of a standard rim (although I must confess it is hilarious to watch some punk who thinks he's better than Kobe make fewer shots than a little girl who uses every ounce of strength just to get it close). If that doesn't do it for you, you can try to kick a soccer ball into a small net that is being guarded by a comical (if not somewhat stereotypical and racially insensitive) cardboard cutout of a Mexican goalie that is bigger than the goal! As terrible as the games are, they are surpassed by the prizes you could win. Most of the plush toys were versions of various South Park characters. I don't really see this appealing to anyone but stoners and very immature guys who think that sort of thing is funny enough to watch more than 30 seconds. As you may have guessed I'm not a fan of the show nor do I think anybody should watch it. But I certainly think it's inappropriate to serve as a prize that your kids will want you to win for them. If you play some of the more expensive and thus more challenging games, you could win an electric guitar. Really?! As if it wasn't difficult enough to lug around a giant stuffed animal, now a kid has got to potentially carry around a musical instrument like he's waiting for a music producer to spring from the bushes and offer him a recording contract if he can play a song for him in the next 30 seconds.
The park workers also seemed to enjoy their jobs significantly less than their Disneyland counterparts. They walk around like zombies crashing after a red bull high and if they happen to engage you in conversation it is the weirdest thing you'll hear all day.
Allow me to illustrate. I went on Boomerang with one of my seniors and while standing in line, a rather portly park worker approached us and stepped inside his little area with a small control box. Once safely inside his outlined square of caution, he proceeded to lift a chain across the opening and latch it. It struck me as funny, being a large man myself, that this tiny wisp of a chain (that somewhat resembled the chain of a pocket watch) would securely hold him in place should he lose his balance and tumble towards the opening of his box o' safety. So I said, "There, now don't you feel safe?” Now there are two types of fat people: the ones who are jovial and love to laugh as much as they love deep fried everything (see my previous post for more on that) and there are the ones who live in their mom's basement. They usually exhibit a lack of social skills and/or anti social behavior and carry with them an in-depth and intimate knowledge of role playing games and World of Warcraft. My friend the park employee was the latter which was obvious when he replied thusly, "It's a safety measure, sir." Really, I didn't realize that, I thought it was a barrier to keep out the tens of people who want your job!
I happened to be wearing a Batman shirt and this sparked his interest greatly. He asked me (in more of a statement) if I was a DC comics fan, being sure to add that he preferred Marvel. I am a fan of Batman and Superman (my personal favorite is the Green Lantern) but I don't choose sides. So I said, "I don't get caught up in the whole east coast/west coast thing" (A reference that sailed over his head by three or four feet). Undaunted by my reference to pop culture, he then said, "Okay, then, who do you think would win in a fight: Batman or Superman?"
I was taken aback at first as I stared unblinking trying to figure out if he really just asked me that. I was looking for the worm hole to Jr. High and the Van Damme vs. Seagal debate. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that I answered him or if my answer made a compelling argument. I said, "Batman! Superman may be supernaturally strong but he has a weakness that makes him mortal and when he's like that, he's kind of a wuss! Whereas, Batman has proven that he can endure getting the crap beat out of him and still rise victorious." He didn't say much, just, "I've never thought of that." He then told us to keep our hands inside the car and enjoy the rest of our day at Knott's. As the coaster left the platform he had a look on his face as though his entire world paradigm had been altered. When we returned to the platform he was nowhere to be seen and his replacement said he muttered something about the foundations of his life being shaken and needing some deep fried butter. He's probably in his basement abode on his inflatable couch curled up in the fetal position desperately clutching his superhero dolls-err-action figures to his chest.
At lunch, I returned to the park entrance to meet with my teens. While waiting for the waifs to arrive I noticed a commotion at the turnstile. A security guard was standing there with arms folded looking down disapprovingly as a Brazilian man argued his case. One of the rules is that no outside food is allowed in the park. This man tried to circumnavigate this rule by hiding a bag of Doritos and a tray of Chips Ahoy cookies in a Brazilian team soccer jacket. While I feel that the greater offense was desecrating the snack foods by concealing them in soccer paraphernalia, the park takes a dim view of rule breakers. It seems that when the ticket checker discovered the food she accidentally dropped his jacket on the ground. He decided that this was the most egregious error of all and attempted to deflect attention from his crime by asking to see as many park officials as he could to whom he could plead his case. One by one they came all the way up the chain of command and as they did he demonstrated what happened to each one of them. He would tell them how angry he was that the bag checker dropped his jacket on the ground and then he would act it out. He must have rubbed that jacket on the ground no less than 10 times in demonstration. His chief complaint was that they soiled the collar and that it would need to be dry-cleaned. He demanded that Knott’s pay for it. From my vantage point I could clearly see the stain on his collar and I am convinced it was nothing more than sweat. The park attendants held their ground on the jacket and eventually gave in on the snack food allowing him to keep it as long as he didn't eat it and find a respectable sports jacket in which to hide them. I was a little disappointed that they acquiesced so easily but perhaps when dealing with someone as unstable as a soccer fan one must be as cautious as possible.
There is so much more I could bore you with but not much of it compares to the plump park person or the furious food hiding foreigner. So I leave you with that and set out on my next blog. Tonight I go to the Hollywood Bowl to see John Williams conduct an orchestra playing music from the movies he's scored. Maybe this one won't take me two months....but I wouldn't hold your breath!
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