craschworks

I just go back from Burning Porcupine aka The Porcupine Freedom Festival.

I had a blast.

I missed my initial flight, so by the time I got into town, it was about 1:40 a.m. on Friday morning. I didn't want to wake anyone up, so at first, I tried to park in a nearby hospital parking lot, until the park opened in the morning.

Not ten minutes later, the police were shining a spotlight through the back window. Somebody in the hospital must have called them.

“What are you doing here?”

“I got in late, and didn't want to wake anyone up. So I thought I would rest here until morning.”

“Well, you can't stay here. There's a helipad over there, and if someone came in, you might get in the way.”

So I drove to Roger's campground. I “slept” that night in my car. Boy, that was utterly miserable. I only dozed lightly, even though I had only had 4 hours sleep the night before. At 5:00 a.m., when it was light enough to see, I wandered around the camp.

There was a hike scheduled for 7:45 a.m. that morning. So I sat in the cafe as a people wandered in. There I met and David Mincin, one of the three organizers for the Festival. He looked like an alcoholic bum–bloodshot eyes, bright red face, bulbous nose, fish lips, and shock of white hair.

I got to meet , , , , , , and and others that I'm probably forgetting to mention. is quite the wit — just don't call him bitter.