A slip-slidin’ good time at Strawberry Days
Sometimes I wonder when I’m ever going to grow up.Then I end up buying an 18-foot Slip ‘N Slide on Sunday and a bottle of generic baby oil for speed and forget all that nonsense.Chock one more summer up to acting on impulse versus acting my age.My first revelry-filled Strawberry Days weekend started out innocently enough. I passed on Friday’s music, although from what I’ve heard, I really missed out. Boogie Machine played those funky disco hits from the ’70s some people love to hate and hate to love.Maybe disco isn’t dead after all.I wanted to be in good spirits Saturday for my first Strawberry Days parade, especially for the free strawberries and vanilla ice cream part.I’m a sucker for free food.Grand Avenue was lined with smiling kids, their parents and grandparents, all having a good old-fashioned time in the sunshine. If it wasn’t for the poor soul hired to clean up the horse poo in front of everyone, I would’ve been smack dab in the middle of a Norman Rockwell painting.America’s favorite artist meets America’s worst job during a parade on a hot day.And I’ve had the nerve to complain about being a newspaper reporter.As I rode my bike down Cooper Avenue, it occurred to me that I was really enjoying myself in Glenwood Springs. People were waving and saying “hi.” Party-goers and music filled compact backyards. The aroma of funnel cakes and barbecue beef-on-a-stick hung in the air.I thought of my college newspaper advisor, who always said, “Life is good.”Once at Sayre Park, I spent my time at the festival drooling over the lemon shake-ups and gyros. Like a kid without a dime in a candy store, forgetting my wallet wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made at a festival.I returned later to find some friends and co-workers with plenty of drink tickets for sticky, sweet strawberry margaritas. The band played even more hits from the ’70s.My dad would have been in heaven.Suddenly, the park was closing. The next mission was to find a party at a friend’s house I heard about through the grapevine.Operation Party Crasher.My three compadres Susan, Kristin and Kendra and I wandered the streets of Glenwood looking for Rob Tramazzo’s house. I have no idea where Rob Tramazzo lives. But I know Rob, and I didn’t think he’d mind a surprise visit.That’s what all the crashers say.Like a scene reminiscent of college, we asked strangers on porches where Rob Tramazzo lives. We even went in one house that was reportedly Rob’s. He didn’t live there, but they let us use their restroom.Strawberry Days really brings out the nice in people.We never found the party, but created one of our own at Doc’s, the Roxie and later my house.After only a few hours of sleep, Sunday came a little too soon. The 19th Street Diner and a free beer at Local’s Day quickly came to our rescue.Enter the Wham-O Wave Rider Slip ‘N Slide and bottle of baby oil.I’m thinking that growing up especially when summer brings festivals such as Strawberry Days and Mountain Fair isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially in Colorado.I’ll just ignore the recommended age on the Slip ‘N Slide box.April E. Clark hopes to one day host the biggest Slip ‘N Slide party of the century. She plans to upgrade to the Triple Racer this summer. “Triple the water and triple the fun!” She can be reached at 948-7913, ext. 518, or firstname.lastname@example.org.
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