Festival Days 3 & 4: I Wanna Spit in Dry Champagne
Day 3 doesn’t get its own entry, because the only thing of note that happened was that THE BEST FRIED RICE OF MY LIFE was brought in by a haughty and insolent Nick, who actually received a small tip for his efforts, since he never has exact change. My fortunes:
“Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst” (in bed), and
“A chance meeting with a stranger may change your life.” Or it may not.
The said Nick, once safely out of reach, referred to me as “a ball-breaker and an emotional wreck”–you know, the usual endearments. A colleague observed, “You and Nick have a weird…I don’t know what to call it.” Exactly.
On Day 4, on my way in to work, I heard “I’m Once Bitten, Twice Shy, Babe,” which Rom used to think was “I Wanna Spit in Dry Champagne.” It goes down in history with such misheard gems as “I See a Baboon Rising” and “Medieval Woman.” My personal favorite is that old Bob Dylan number, “If there’s a poor boy on the street, then let him have my feet, ’cause tonight I’ll be staying here with you.”
The Festival featured, first, a woman with two swords (a Ninjette, one might say), and later, a man reporting a lost sword. Hey, wasn’t that a Moody Blues album? In Search of the Lost Sword?