Parade Charade, Summerfest Pest and the Vomit Machine

This is a chronicle of our Saturday adventure at Orem's annual Summerfest
Each summer the same parade, the same rides and the same junk food make the rounds in Utah County under the disguise of varying "fairs" that are aptly titled to fit the personality of the city that hosts them. Pleasant Grove's "Strawberry Days", American Fork "Steel Days", Spanish Fork "Fiesta Days", etc. etc. We usually make a stop at Orem's Summerfest because we don't like steel, we don't think strawberries should be given their own days (we believe in equal opportunity for fruit) and just because a city has "Spanish" in their name it doesn't necessarily qualify them for a true "fiesta".
We usually also attend Provo's "Freedom Days" because they get the cream of the crop when it comes to traveling circus acts because they secured the coveted 4th of July timeslot.
Last weekend, Summerfest made its debut and we decided to avoid the heat of the day on Saturday and not join the festivities until early evening when the parade began. After arguing over a parking spot with me for twenty minutes David finally settled on the farthest one possible (this is his usual routine when it comes to parking, don't ask me why), never mind the fact that I was wearing a knee brace because I nearly killed myself (oh alright, I twisted my knee badly) at the gym the day before.
We seated ourselves on the curb around 6:30 towards the beginning of the route and everyone was in good moods.

7:00 rolled around and we weren't getting much action. A helicopter or two flew overhead and random people draped in red, white and blue crepe paper and accessories were moseying down the route sporadically. Some even (literally) dragging their dogs or young children with them.


Were we supposed to be entertained by this? And who convinces these people that this is a good idea? They all looked a little embarrassed and we were for them as well. And the troops (my troops that is) were getting bored.

After fifteen to twenty minutes of this, Ashton exclaimed "This parade has already started and it sucks! Let's go!" Many people laughed, including David and I, but I heard a few snickers from parents so I felt compelled to add "Ashton that is not appropriate" between stifled laughs.
So the parade finally begins twenty or so minutes late (I can't imagine how those farther down the route were wrangling their children). Pretty standard fare which kind of got old after awhile.
A few minutes into the parade, we had a little visitor. The mother behind us calmly exclaimed "Oh, there's a snake," and then proceeds to pick it up with her bare hands! What!? I jumped five feet and freaked out knowing the slimy creature was moments from slithering up my backside. I think the lady thought I was really weird though because after making a huge scene over the revolting pest, I quickly asked to take a picture of it without missing a beat. Hey, we bloggers know that we can't miss a picture opportunity when we see one.

I was excited to see that Mountain View High was going to participate in the parade, since I never see them in the Provo one. But instead of showing off their artistic talent with a well-rehearsed marching band like the other high schools, we got hyperactive cheerleaders showing us how high they can kick and football players stuffed on a truck shouting things to the crowd. Great. I really want to cheer for that. This reinforces my fear that perhaps the school that once shined in the arts may now barely even have a department for it.

So the parade went on and on and the kids became restless which was only momentarily subdued by green UVU suckers from my Alma mater:

We finally left before it was ended to head over to the rides and Ashton entertained the crowds while we walked with his "Sidewalk Jig" that was accompanied by the Mexican float that was following us down the street:


I always find the attendees of fairs such an eclectic mix. Kind of like Lagoon too. You've got the families that are a model of preparedness with their double strollers stocked with any item that might possibly become necessary and older children harnessed into "kid leashes"- as to not stray too far- waiting in line alongside huge groups of loud mouth teenagers that think a bikini top and daisy dukes are appropriate attire to a family-themed event. Throw in the more laid back but frazzled parents like us trying to keep up with their kids with the plethora of BYU students on dates and you got a pretty mixed bag.
We, of course, gamely played along with the kiddy rides for awhile but David wanted to take Ashton over to the other side where all the "ride this rickety and rusted death trap if you dare" rides were located. There is where we met with the Vomit Machine:

David appropriately named this beast after he barely wobbled off with his insides intact. I can't believe he convinced Ashton to go and I can't believe I let them. I had three panic attacks waiting for them while listening to the scrambler ride next to me screech and moan as loud as thunder every time it came to a stop. Do they have any maintenance codes for these things?
David said that there was puke all over the cement below the ride. Disgusting. If they can't be bothered to clean up after someone loses their dinner, they are merely asking for repeat offenses.
But we capped the night off nicely with a grand firework viewing on the grass with the children finally winding down in preparation to conk out in the car on the way home.


Our adventure didn't end there though...while the children slept peacefully in the back, David and I had an interesting run in (not literally) with a car full of intoxicated college students and three cops. But I'll leave that story for another post...