As Phoenix so astutely observed, my previous post only told part of the story.

After the Afternoon Of 1,000 Rib Bones, we ambled our way away from the rib festival and Don McLean's out-of-tune rendition of Cryin'. We had, for the most part, eaten our fill, topping off the barbecued goodness with some tasty ice cream. Well, Phoenix and Brother of Phoenix had some tasty ice cream, I got an Oreo Flurry that was really a Stale Oreo Flurry. Oh, I ate it all, but it was a rather large disappointment. I haven't been this disappointed since they cancelled Fun House with host J.D. Roth.

C'mon, I know some of you remember that show.

We chose to attend the Akron Family Barbeque (formerly the Akron Rib Burnoff, I don't know why they changed the name) not only because of our love of cooked pork but also because it was held right downtown. Every year, Akron has a fireworks display downtown. They close down the Martin Luther King Jr. Freeway which runs right through town and shoot the fireworks over the highway. The rib fest was literally only a couple of blocks away so we got our walk on and hoped to find a nice spot on which to stake our claim.

Incidentally, what's up with "honoring" people by naming a highway (or section thereof) after them? In Northeastern Ohio, we have ones named for MLK Jr., John Glenn (former astronaut and senator from Ohio), and the Vietnam Veterans of America. "Thank you for your commitment to racial equality, your contributions to the space program, and for fighting off communist aggression in southern Asia. Here, have a freeway."

All along the grassy hills surrounding the MLK and on parts of the road itself sat other fireworks-goers like ourselves. It was a sea of people. We waded in a bit, hoping to perch near the top of a ramp in order to get a good view of the action. After a short search we found a patch of green that lay unclaimed and threw down our blankets like the colonial explorers before us. Only our blankets weren't laced with smallpox.

The festivities were still about an hour away, so we just kinda hung out and took in the scenery. Off behind us (and dispersed throughout the crowd here and at the rib fest) were several individuals holding signs or wearing sandwich boards. They were taking a stance on any number of evils and informing passers-by the particular methods by which they could be saved. If I truly wanted to I could ramble on for pages and pages about how I feel about such individuals, but I won't, since if you read me regularly you probably feel the same way. Needless to say, I'm not sure who they hoped to convert, or why they even bother, but at least they were out in the open so that when the Rapture comes I can go up to Jesus and say, "It's about time you got here, bro. Those are the guys, over there, with the signs. Those are the ones I was telling you about. Don't hold back, get Old Testament on their asses. I'll be over here with the rest of the saved. Hit me up on my cell when you're ready to bounce."

Earlier in the evening I had announced, "Although I'm happy you people have found religion, keep your Jesus out of my ribs." I now had to amend that to: keep your Jesus out of my ribs and fireworks. If any one of them says a thing about Creationism of Intelligent Design, I swear to Vishnu I'm gonna flip out and start cutting people's heads off.

We settled in and a local radio personality's voice came over the large speakers that had been set up facing the crowd. He ran his mouth for a bit--about what, I'm not sure, I was too busy cringing at the sibilance--and then put on some tunes. At least we'd have something to listen to while we waited. The sky slowly grew darker as sun sunk further below the horizon and that's when we saw him. He was an unassuming man, the kind of guy that if he passed you in a crowd you wouldn't give him a second thought. He wasn't dressed particularly hip, nor did he carry himself with an air of cockiness or self-importance. His frame could best be described as slight, almost lanky, and conducted himself in a very non-threatening manner. It is possible that he was a vendor--there were many out and about, both in booths and walking around--but he had no cart of wares nor did he seem to be calling out to anyone. He could have just been a crappy vendor, I suppose, but really he seemed like he was in his own world. Oh, and did I mention he had a blinky thing on his shirt and in either hand held some sort of flexible multi-colored glow stick?

His presence was so muted that although he had probably been standing there a mere ten or fifteen feet in front of me the whole time, I hadn't noticed him until this point. And this point was the moment when the music started. Clearly he bore the soul of a dancer under that shy exterior and when the speakers kicked on he couldn't control himself. He began gyrating to the urban-infused punk stylings of Gwen Stefani's "Holla Back Girl". Phoenix was commenting to me on how odd it was for them to even play the song since it was made radio-friendly by censoring the numerous swears. As I listened, I sorta bobbed my head from side to side like a subdued cheerleader and sang out, "This shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s." But our singing and idle chatter stopped short when we saw the dude start to get his groove on. If I had been eating a rib at the time it would probably have dropped out of my mouth.

Gwen was replaced by Rob Thomas and "Lonely No More". Dancin' Pete was starting to really feel it. He would swing his glow sticks into the air, doing what could possibly be mistaken for a rhythmic gymnastics routine, only without the streamers. We were into it. We cheered our new hero on, this random guy who took it upon himself to let the beat take over. Other people in the crowd stared on in amusement, wonder, and general bafflement. Many took pictures, and rightly so (and on the small chance any of those people are reading this, if you could e-mail me a copy I would be forever in your debt!)

The music of Matchbox Twenty's frontman came to an end and was followed by the timeless Soft Cell classic, "Tainted Love". To be honest, our new found friend and inspiration stumbled over the rhythm of this tune a little. He didn't know how to handle the subtle beat structure and at first it seemed like his show would come to a premature end. But as the music infused his soul, he caught the vibe and managed to conquer even this tricky little number. As for me, I did what I always do when I hear that song: I imitated Dan Aykroyd in Coneheads by belting out, "ANH! ANH! Tainted Love!"

At some point, Phoenix asked me if she gave me a dollar would I run up and put it in his pocket. I pondered for a moment but declined the almost dare. I have a hard enough time trying to get dates with women. I didn't think running up to some random guy, who was dancing with glow sticks, and putting money in his pocket, would help my case any. I'm not saying he didn't deserve a tip, I just wasn't willing to deliver it.

Dancin' Pete, a name I just ascribed to the fellow while writing this post for lack of something better to call him, ended his routine with a number he was born to dance to. We left the 80's behind by tuning into the American Idol sensation that is Kelly Clarkson and her rockin' break-up track, "Since U Been Gone". Pete was in heaven. He let the music flow through his body and into his colorfully playful glow sticks. Honestly, I don't know how he had the energy, especially in the early-evening heat (on highway concrete, no less). He mixed up his almost pirouette twirls by gracefully bounding up and down the small stretch of on-ramp in front of the speakers. It was on a slope, naturally, so on the way back down I expected him to get caught up in the moment and the pull of gravity and simply keep going off into the blockaded section of highway. Fortunately for us and him, he was able to reign himself in, but I can just imagine the helicopter news footage of a man dancing wildly down MLK, twirling about to a beat only he can hear.

I don't exactly remember if the song concluded, but at some point our reverie was interrupted by the radio personality to announce the beginning of the festivities. Maybe the others saw what happened to our one-man-entertainment-fest, but I lost sight of him. He was my hero. He made the evening for me, with his simple, innocent dance mania. I like to think that when the music stopped, he stopped. I imagine him calmly putting away his glow sticks, turning off his blinking pin, and then stepping into the crowd, disappearing without a trace. Kinda like the end of the video for Dirty Vegas' "Days Go By".

The fireworks display finally started and our little group leaned back to enjoy the show. As it turned out, we had picked an almost perfect spot to sit, affording us an excellent view of the light show with occasional posture adjustments required from time to time due to excessive craning of the neck. Our radio station co-sponsors treated us to a "choreographed" selection of music to go along with the fireworks. It was about as well-choreographed as third grade musical, and the selection of accompaniment was somewhat dubious. Although the first half of the show featured songs that at least had some (if tenuous) connection to Independence Day, the second half was simply a pop hit potpourri. It's quite jarring to hear "America the Beautiful" followed by No Doubt's "Hella Good". Phoenix and I decided we'd improvise and change all of the words of the pop songs to references to the holiday. We were fortunate that the syllables "fourth of Ju-ly" fits well to "keep on dan-cin". I'll spare you any other examples but needless to say it got a little trickier when Kelly Clarkson made a return visit to the playlist.

Crappy accompaniment aside, the fireworks were awesome. I really gotta hand it to them, they put on a fantastic show. Fireworks technology appears to keep advancing and it seems like every time I go see them, there is a new trick. This year there were these fireworks that would explode in classic fashion and fade out but then seconds later relight as they crashed back to earth. It created a very cool curtain effect that I didn't see coming (who knew they could re-ignite?!)

The show closed in grand fashion with a wonderful finale that I was hoping would be a fake-out. Fireworks are so mesmerising, you're always hoping that there's one more after this one. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and so it did. Everyone applauded and then the throng of people began to pack up and head home for the evening. We waited for a bit, in no rush to join the herd stampeding its way back to wherever it parked. With a renewed vigor the Jesus-vendors took up their cries again. One yelled out the many sins facing us in these troubled times, sins we needed saving from. As I sat there trying to coax my body, stuffed full of ribs, to move after sitting/lying down for quite some time, I distinctly heard two words: "Adultery! Pornography! ...."

And my immediate reaction was, "Adultery and pornography? Sign me up!"

Tags: Food, Humor, Independence Day