On Saturday, Rob and I drove down to the Green Festival at the Washington, D.C. Convention Center. That’s “green” as in “environmentally responsible.” It was more of an expo than a festival, but I won’t quibble; it was so totally groovy to be surrounded by sensible people for a change. And by this, I mean “largely sensible,” as some of the people were most certainly insensible.* Several times during the day, I was minding my own business, or perhaps forcing Rob to sample one of the large assortment of organic coffees, when a parade came by. It was not a different parade each time; it was the same parade, going in circles, wending its way between the booths and stands in that moderately sized room for hours at a stretch. The parade consisted of people carrying signs I could not be bothered to read no many how many times I encountered them, and several of what appeared to be seagulls fashioned out of bed sheets. I find seagulls menacing anyway, but these were so abnormally large and so utterly without context that I just didn’t know what to do.
They may have been doves, but in my experience, doves are not typically that monstrous.
They may have been albino emus.
We had lunch at the festival. This consisted of a bowl of organic rice topped with slimy translucent noodles, one tiny spear of broccoli, a “drumstick” of soy chicken, and an interminable blaring rant by an anti-war poet. I’m as anti-war as the next person—in fact, I’m infinitely more anti-war than the next person—but I don’t want to hear about it while I’m trying to choke down a soy chicken “drumstick.” That’s just too cruel.***
Then we looked at some windmills and organic shoes and cruelty-free yogurt, and then we went home.
* FYI: “insensible” is not the opposite of this usage of “sensible,” nor does its actual definition fit in this paragraph. I just thought it would be fun fun fun to type.**
** Boy, was I wrong.
*** The “drumstick” was actually eerily tasty.
