Ah, Fiesta. It's the only time you can celebrate Old Spanish Days by eating a ton of Mexican food and drinking even more Mexican beer while listening to Mexican Mariachis singing about Mexico.
Santa Barbara started fiesta in order to increase tourism and give police officers a reason to taser anything that resists, but the only things Spanish is the dancing and a lot of white people dressed in flamenco outfits that show too much lower back.
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate on fiesta. I love traditions, especially ones that I can drink to and attack strangers with eggs full of confetti. But there are soooooooo many tourists. But if you're coming to fiesta, you should know better than to venture downtown without stocking up on your own ammo.
So my friends and I went out on Thursday night. I was the first victim to get hit by a cascarone, but thankfully, I wore my hair down, so I could care less. It's funny, part of you wants to get hit by the egg, but part of you does not, but you know it's coming, so it's the anticipation that's the worst thing about it. So we hung around de la guerra plaza, got some tacos, and we were in the line for churros when Maggie asks me if I had been by the coke booth yet. Explanation: My father was part of the Knights of Columbus, and if you're Catholic, you know all about them, but for those who aren't, it's basically a church organization of old men (and my brother) who just hang around and try to get other old men to join their group, but they also raise money via pancake breakfasts and a soda booth during fiesta. I don't know where all that money goes, but they use some of it for scholarships and charities? I don't know. I could look it up, but I'll just wait for some smart ass to correct me. I DARE YOU.
So anyways, my father was strangely and deeply committed to the coke booth at de la guerra. He made us work there one day many fiestas ago, and it was a disaster. We had no idea how anything turned on, or kept going, and I'm pretty sure we served flat soda the first part of the morning. But that only encouraged my father to keep working there, and that led to him reconstructing the booth to make it look nicer, and getting my brother to help out, and my Uncle Bob whenever he came out from Pennsylvania to visit. But the coke booth was my father's adopted child, so to speak. So this was the first year that poor little booth had to sustain without my father. The KOC kindly dedicated it to him, and they asked my mom if they could use a picture. They didn't say which picture.
So back to Thursday. I told Mags that there would be a picture of my dad there, but I didn't see anything the day before. Well Maggie informs me there is indeed a picture of him up, but it looks like a family one. Yes, I was featured on the KOC coke booth. thank god it was a good picture of me. It was a nice gesture. I appreciated it, and then I moved on, little do I know that the next day, there is a picture of our picture in the paper. I know, right?
Well, the rest of the night went pretty well, despite the fact that we went to two Irish bars in town. In our defense, if there was a Cerveseria we'd go there. It would probably be super full and have a huge cover, but this is all hypothetical. We met some British guys who we of course had to cascarone. One didn't take kindly to it, but the others enjoyed it, even if the confetti got into their Cuervo margaritas. I apologized, but I finished with,"well, it's not like you're drinking anything decent." I finished off the night by accepting a ride from my older sister that night, who was lucky enough to get involved in the other tradition that nobody loves: the fiesta DUI checkpoint. It's a long story that she doesn't like me telling, but she got off. barely.
Well, that's about it for my fiesta activities. I am boycotting fiesta pequena until they get a Mariachi band that doesn't ruin my favorite song. I missed the fiesta parade, but I only work a block away from it, so I definitely heard it. I saw a part of the children's parade, but it wasn't intentional. I only pay attention if they're throwing candy, and they were not. You hit one child in the eye with a jolly rancher and suddenly it's not "safe."
So now it's back to nothing. awesome. Oh well, at least the confetti will remain until the next rain.
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