The Florida Folk Festival has been cancelled. The location of the festival, along the banks of the Suwanee river, is right in the crease where the fires from GA and FL are preparing to link up for their own three day weekend.
This leaves a pretty big hole in the schedule. Last year I missed the festival due to a bad case of the bubonic plague, so I was looking forward to getting back in the groove. It looks like I will just have to go get chiggers someplace else this weekend. Damn.
S’quatch wants to roll down into central Florida cold spring country and do some road biking. You know, just pull up at some private campground and pay $20 a night for the privilege of sleeping next to an overflowing barrel of dirty diapers and Busch Light Draft cans, with the raggedy bass of some gap-toothed redneck’s “system” providing the lullabies.
Mystery, the Untameable Stallion, (or is it Buttercup now?) is headed to Obed in TN for climbing,biking,fun- but that seems to be a “date trip” and I am fresh out of dates.
So, maybe camping in conditions similar to the Andersonville prison camp is an appropriate way to recognize the holiday. Trekking all day under the blazing central Florida sun, the smell of roadkill on the breeze, maybe that is as close to war as I will ever get?
Unless you have a better idea?