The Kung Fu Festival

I went to the "Kung Fu Festival" last night, bet you didn't know they had such a thing.

Well yeah, of course they have Kung Fu Conventions and such (I think) but that's not the type of thing I'm talking about. I mean "Festival" like the "Renaissance Festivals" - with the jousting, and the smelly people saying 'hark' and 'hail', and drinking mead with their wenches, and comparing their cod pieces, and archery and - well, uh -- actually I've never been to one of those either but I'm sure all this goes on, and if it doesn't get your act together folks, that's what it was like back then! Heck, throw in a sprinkling of "the consumption" for the poets to be all nostalgic over if you have to.

"Sake Flavored Cotton Candy"

No, this was the "Kung Fu Festival" and what a blast. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to call it a "Kung Fu / Samurai (Film) Festival" but that would have suggested that there would be movies shown. This was more of a festival held in the style of Kung Fu films and not necessarily good ones at that.

It had a full collection of all of the trappings of modern commercialization that tends to ruin these types of events: From the Sake Flavored Cotton Candy to the overabundance of people dressed as the same person - in this case it was either skinny kids without shirts screaming like Bruce Lee or their fat fathers wearing 'blind' contacts trying to give massages to all the pretty girls or worse yet the Chuck Norris look alike contestants (mostly with oversized blond afro's, and although I don't really recall him having one I don't doubt it either) that looked just about as much like former Elvis impersonators as they did Chuck Norris, and that's not a fine line to tread. Speaking of Chuck Norris, yup the man was there. If you looked hard enough you could see him hiding in the corners of tents ready to take out punks wearing shirts that said "Chuck Norris ______ _______ ______". (It should be noted that Chuck Norris actually gets a kick out of the "Chuck Norris Facts" but I am one of the few people who saw that terrible cartoon that was made starring him in the eighties and it left me thinking 'he makes a better bad guy.')

He wasn't the only celebrity there either, at one point Sulu(!) went running around brandishing his sword at everyone and occasionally grabbing a woman or two to "protect" As a geek I'm quite aware that in that particular episode of Star Trek he was actually using a Fencing sword and that that is not very Kung Fu at all, but unfortunately as a child when I first saw it I was too young to understand the minute differences in sword fighting styles, a sword was a sword. To be honest for a while I thought that Sulu(!) actually was Bruce Lee since I had never actually seen any of his movies and the only image I had of him was the one that was on a poster, in a garage across the street from where I lived (Where he also had 'illegal' nunchucks and throwing stars and liked to brag about how 'illegal and dangerous' they were, then would promptly leave the room while the local kids were playing with them. By the way kids, nunchucks hurt like hell even when you're the one swinging them around with your puny 4 or 5 year old arms.) I suppose the neat thing about this was that he seemed to be doing the exact same stuff he did on that episode, he had this badly edited fuzziness around him that made me suspect that they had just stolen that part of the show and edited it into this dream. It was more apparent when he would appear in the Black and White section of the festival.

"By the way kids, nunchucks hurt like hell..."

I've seen a good deal of Samurai movies in my time and a good deal of them were made in black and white and unfortunately I had to watch them with subtitles, usually unreadable ones at that since they insisted on using either white or black and half of it was always the same color as what was happening in the movie itself. The Black and White section wasn't really all that much fun for me, partly for this reason, but not entirely. I did seem to be alone in my boredom though as everyone else seemed to be having a blast yelling randomly for what seemed like hours and hours then holding up signs that would say something short like "Hi!" or the opposite, but equally marginally funny version of saying a one syllable word then holding up paragraph after paragraph of writing. I guess it was kind of cool walking around in black and white just for the effect though. As I left the area there were notices that the evenings events were about to begin and with names like "Wire Battle" and "Samurai Showdown" I felt a compulsion to quicken my pace in that direction.

For the "Wire Battle" I was expecting to see some really interesting acrobatics or at least something absurd in the vein of MXC but when I arrived there it was actually a reenactment of the Bazooka Circus trapeze scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I was not mentally prepared for this, but it may not be something that you ever should be prepared for. If you're not familiar with this scene, you must correct that, but in the mean time it should suffice simply to say that it included a pregnant woman giving birth, a midget being shot out of a cannon and a doctor with a giant set of scissors. Not convinced? Damn, if that doesn't make you want to see it for yourself I've got nothing.

As for the tent with the sign that said "Samurai Showdown" I was grateful for the previous disappointment, since it convinced me to do a bit of investigating before standing in line and plunking down a small fortune. I snuck my head through a crack in the tent and as my eyes adjusted to the light the world suddenly took on an abstract distinctiveness, this was shaping up to be the gem of the night.

The tent was filled with all manner of somber ceremonial goodies and lit by hundreds of candles that sent off a misleading army of shadows that appeared ready to attack at any moment. From my vantage point I could see just one man in the tent, he was dressed modestly with a dull orange kimono that gave off the impression it had been crafted by a quality artisan at some point in the distant past, beneath this his faded black pants billowed out from an unseen breeze. He had his black hair tied behind him in a ponytail, as would be expected, and the hilt of his blade, held in its scabbard was loosely gripped by his right hand ready for action.

A gong sounded and another man entered from the distant opening, he was wearing a bright orange coat that looked entirely out of place and was brandishing his sword in both hands out in front of him as though pointing at his adversary's brow would somehow defeat him. Behind him the door was propped open and the next contestant, also wearing a garishly bright orange jacket, stepped in to watch. Presumably this event had just begun and I was thrilled to think that I had not missed anything.

The first contestant took two loud shuffling steps forward and began to scream. Confused I looked toward the other samurai only to see him silently returning his sword to its sheath. Had I looked a moment later I would not have thought he had breathed let alone moved at all.

Out of nowhere two large men picked up the dead man and hurled him into a corner. When they moved toward the door I noticed that the next person, who was as pale as could be expected, had begun to turn and leave. He was stopped by one of the large men and thrust back into the room where he was promptly chopped in two. Simultaneously his replacement had begun walking proudly into the tent with just enough time to wet himself before finding the same fate. I stood frozen as this series of event continued to unfold in front of me for far longer than I would have expected I could withstand nor would I readily admit.

"It was the only thing I saw that day that was faster than the Samurai's sword."

Yet strangely, the events that transpired showed only marginal variation: Occasionally the contestant would stand ready for action confident in the knowledge that the person before him was a fool and that he would benefit from his opponents over confidence having faced such a poor opponent. More often it was a repeat of the first three, either inching forward to die without a clue what they had gotten themselves into or immediately lapsing into some form of panic, be it soiling themselves in some way, begging for mercy or trying to escape. In one instance I bore witness to a father following his son and couldn't help thinking that he may have stood a chance had he gone first for I had never seen a tear form and drop from a man's eye with such speed. It was the only thing I saw that day that was faster than the Samurai's sword.

Eventually my senses did return to me and as I ran from my hiding place in hopes that I could warn the people in line, I found that I had begun to float away. In a few seconds the tent no longer obscured my view of the line and I could see that the orange-coated men numbered in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. I shouted many times for them to leave even though I knew already that I was too high for them to hear me. Eventually my voice grew hoarse but I feared that if I stopped trying to yell it would undoubtedly turn to tears. It was in this state that I awoke for a very early breakfast and a much welcome sunrise.

Ordering Chinese Food on a Bus

When I closed my eyes I found myself on a bus traveling across the country. It would only stop for about a half an hour at every place, and although I'm sure we stayed in some hotels along the way we were hardly there long enough to actually see a town, so I supposed that it was not actually something you could call a tour bus. It seemed to me that we were on our way to an airport eventually to be taken over seas somewhere, but it wasn't really clear where. Up until Detroit things had been rather boring, it was about then that reality finally started to crack.

When I tried to get back on the bus the driver shut the door in my face then was very insistent that I show her my ticket. Now when I say on my face I really mean 'on my face' I had already stepped up the first step and was literally thrown back by the door. Now this insistence on a ticket would normally not seem out of place, but considering that I had been on this very bus for the most part of a week, and with this very driver as it made its way from California somewhat irked me. The more so since I didn't really know if I had a ticket, I'd never seen one nor did I really know what it was supposed to look like. I reached into my pocket to find several scraps of paper that could only have passed for a bus ticket sometime before computers and all these fancy 'colors' they use these days. Finally satisfied, we were allowed back on the bus with a warning to 'get our shit together, or we'd be finding ourselves on the side of a very lonely road someday.' Which far from motivated me to take any greater care in responsibility for my tickets and instead guaranteed that eye contact with this loathsome creature would be more uncomfortable for her the next time our paths crossed. I was sure that before the next stop I would have found a suitable face that would be enough to frighten her out of at least one nights sleep. I set to work on my face as it reflected angrily back at me in the window and practiced a few variations of my favorites.

"...while I found that intriguing, I did not find it appetizing..."

The next thing I remembered was waking on the back of the bus as it was driving into a restaurant in New York. Yes, into. It was some large building with windows in the front that opened up (quite a bit) to accommodate this. When we came to a stop the front of the bus was gone, and the unoccupied seat in front of me had been folded forward making its back into my table, and while I found that intriguing, I did not find it appetizing as it had, over the miles, collected some obvious marks that signified it as a favorite place to rest ones weary feet while traveling. When I looked beyond the confines of the bus I found myself in what looked to be a rather nice establishment for eating, that is if you can get beyond the obvious limitations of sanitation and tastefulness that come with having the back half of a large filthy bus taking up an equally large portion of the seating. I could not.

Apparently this was going to be our entire stay in New York, no Broadway, no Park, no penny flinging, no random profanity slung this way or that, and worse yet, no Chinese food! How can one go to New York and not get some good Chinese food (delivered on some form of two wheel transport preferably.) As soon as I realized this I began to search for a menu as some food would be better than no food and since the bus driver had already changed into her waitress outfit and was working her way around the bus taking orders, time was short. No one else seemed to have a menu so I took that to mean that they could make almost anything there. I though perhaps it would be worth trying there attempt at Chinese food.

"I hoped that this was not a reference to spittle and wondered if it was too late to whip my glaring look in her direction."

When the waitress (bus driver) came to me she looked at me with disgust in her eyes that said 'Oh it's you, that punk who can't seem to keep track of his ticket.' It was then that I realized that the facial expression I had planned out for her was not only not on my face, but that it would not have the desired effect on a waitress who was likely to have some influence on the amount of saliva I would find in my meal. She had won this round as well! In as meek and as down trodden a voice as I could muster I said "Chinese food, please." That was not nearly specific enough, of course, so I asked if they 'might have a menu so I could order something more specific, perhaps they have some specialty I would like?' She grudgingly obliged, to my surprise until she added that I was sure to find a meal specifically suited to me. I hoped that this was not a reference to spittle and wondered if it was too late to whip my glaring look in her direction.

"...in this case the label had a happy looking clam opening its mouth to show how cheesy it was inside."

The menu was more informative for me than I had expected. On the cover was the name of the restaurant and it seemed to suggest that I would find something to my liking as the place was called "The New York Diner Experience!!!" and although there did not appear to be any specific explanation as to why a name like that would warrant three exclamation points a cursory glance through the rest of the menu led me to suspect it was in reference to their always busy restrooms and how they managed to keep them that way. The entire menu read as though it were some sort of advertisement for soup, Campbell's soup specifically. Almost every page had some special recipe that was made with a can of good old wholesome, 'tasty as mom makes' this or that. The sandwiches were not exempt and I may never get over the horror of having read how they prepare their 'Classic American Style Grilled Cheese" not that it was unsanitary or unhealthy, I just don't think Clam Chowder belongs on the list of healthy ingredients. Many of these soup infused "Classics" had actual cans placed prominently where a picture of the dish would normally be and in this case the label had a happy looking clam opening its mouth to show how cheesy it was inside. In the proper setting I can see this being funny or at least amusing but in the context of something you were actually going to eat and combined with several dozen other such labeled cans it very nearly made me sick. The only thing that stopped this from happening was my determination to have some Chinese food. Somehow I knew that throwing up right then would doom me to a dinner of unsalted Saltine crackers and tap water.

My waitress (bus driver) returned and demanded my order. Unfortunately I had not managed to figure out where the Chinese was hidden in this menu, but all hope was not lost yet as I suddenly yelled out 'Moo Goo Goo Goo!!!' To which I began to laugh realizing that we were not in Chicago and that no one else would get that joke. As she began to pester me I became belligerent and began to shout, "Where's the Chinese food?" and "I've heard that in America there are only two places to get good Chinese food, San Francisco and New York. I've had the one I want the other!" The last part I tried to turn into a chant like at a wrestling match in the hopes that others would join in on my battle:

"I've had the one...I want the other!"
"I've had the one..I want the other!"

But predictably it was unsuccessful and only seemed to irk the other patrons of this increasingly questionable "fine eating establishment (!!!)" A glance over to where the cooks and wait staff collide confirmed this, as they seemed to be pointing in my direction while formulating a proper seasoning for whatever I was about order. I finally found my precious Chinese food section and confidently order some Pork Chow Mien, knowing full well by that point that it was not likely to be a very satisfying meal, but who knows maybe Chicken Noodle is what they use as a secret ingredient over in San Francisco as well.

Shafted in the Elevator

If you're anything like me, and I'm not saying that you are (but if in fact you are), then when you dream you have places that you often frequent. To the point it seems uncanny when you come across them. You'll be in the middle of some drawn out chase scene and think 'Isn't there an ice cream shop around the corner? I could go for one of those, a nice big scoop of Mint 'n' Chips. You know, if there isn't a line I think I can swing in and pick one up before this monster gets too much closer.' It's usually just about that time I realize that I've routed myself into one of my 'safe' places.

I'm lead to believe, at least based on what I've seen on TV and in the Movies that most people's places are somewhere they went to a lot as a child. The cabin by the lake, the park that 'pop' would take you one weekend a month and after school for one whole week a year, or detention with a particularly rude teacher seem to be the most common. This is not the case for me, my mind seems to have made up its own places and one of them is a mall in San Francisco on the bottom floor of a skyscraper. It made a cameo in this dream I had that I've come to call:

"Shafted in the Elevator"

I had just returned to the bottom floor of the building after dropping a 14-year-old delinquent off at kindergarten. He protested, but I politely pointed out that when he had managed to display maturity equal to the students in that class I would be notified and he could move onto a more respectable learning facility. I did not expect to see him again. Unfortunately at this point I noticed that I had left my cell phone and jacket up there and would have to go back up.

"...if she wanted to have sex in a public place I didn't see why a little public would deter her."

I was standing patiently waiting for one of the three elevators numbered oddly enough as numbers 1, 4, and 5 and wondering what happened to number 2 and 3 when lucky number 5 opened up. The gentleman that I had not noticed standing next to me got in and pushed the highest number on it, it seemed like a good place to go so I pushed it as well and felt a lifting sensation as it took off towards its destination. A few seconds in I noticed that the other man was leaning to his left and more disturbingly looking towards the back of the elevator behind me. 'People don't do that!' I began to protest then realized that he was leaning because the elevator was no longer going up, it was going to the side, and he was looking behind me because there was no wall there.

We were being treated, it would seem, to a tour of the parking facility and I thought that if we happened to pass my car it might be best if I got off and went home, something was telling me it might be easier to just buy a new cell phone if things continued on in this manner. The man started to laugh and pointed towards two policemen celebrating their finding of a car that they believed was being used to sell drugs from. I couldn't see how they would know this as it looked like any other mid-80s crappy sports car, probably an RX-7, although it seemed odd that it was a '4-door'. As we rounded the other side one of the policemen opened the rear door and I could see that there was an office inside the vehicle, too cramped for my taste, and I doubt too many drug dealers have that nice a desk in their back seat. No this was more likely some disreputable businessman who wanted to have an address in this building but couldn't afford an actual space. I cleared my throat to mention this to the officers when the machine I was on surged ahead to the next lot.

I became grateful that our path did not cross with my car for next portion of our ride we were treated to scenes displaying all sorts of savagery. We passed through a lot where hooligans were throwing cars back and forth as if in a game of catch, and judging by the amount of glass on the ground they had been playing for quite some time. As we moved on the violence increased to a level where Ambulances were driving over people to get themselves to safety. That's not something you see often, and I dare say that the man with me may have passed some sort of breaking point then as the smell in our elevator became quite unbearable. I had begun to feel quite faint as we finally passed into the building again and I heard that wonderful 'ding' that meant we had arrived. Quickly I leapt into the lobby for fear of having the doors close with me still in there. I could tell it was not the floor I needed, but it was the floor I wanted, and were I the type of person to kiss the ground I would have.

After recovering my senses I realized that the floor I was going to was the 30^th and that I was only on the 10^th. Athletic as I might be, I was in no mood to walk 20 stories up to my destination, nor was I inclined to walk 10 down to go home. I'd lost a good deal of time on that first run and would probably be late to my new job at this rate, 'course if I could call them and let them know I'd be late it would probably be alright. I noticed that the number 1 elevator was open and beginning to close, as I leapt for it I could see that there was a couple in side starting to take their clothes off. Not deterred I stuck my hand in the door to stop it from closing to which the lady suggested that I take the number 5 instead since she'd just heard it opening. I informed her that was not going to happen and that whatever they had in mind could not possible bother me more than another ride on that foul machine. Furthermore, that if she wanted to have sex in a public place I didn't see why a little public would deter her. Besides which I had not the slightest intention of watching, as neither of them was in the slightest bit attractive. The doors closed and I turned around, but unfortunately we were not going up. Damn!

Whether or not they actually had sex behind me was unclear. I could tell that they at least gave it a go and if they did I'd say that it wasn't entirely successful. I on the other hand was getting an extremely slow tour of the mall. There was no sign of violence here but I dare say it was almost as disturbing. It was like one of those tour theaters you see at museums where you get to take a trip through time and see all of mans' depravity as he lived like an animal and ends at a door the merchandise stand, no doubt to triumphantly symbolize the height of civilization that we are currently at. This could be the sequel to that ride but it just features the depravity of modern man. It somehow seemed more disturbing without the robotic voice to point out and explain what I was looking at.

As we rounded a corner the elevator came into a fast food restaurant and near enough to their phone that I could reach out and grab it. So I did. Finally I could tell my new boss where I was and what was happening! When my boss answered he was upset. I told him that I was stuck on this infernal elevator and it wouldn't let me off! He chuckled and said "Yup, that would do it." I got as far as explaining that I was in the mall when I ran out of phone cable and the call ended without my getting any suggestions on escape.

A few hours later as we were rolling up a hill on the edge of town we went past some people I recognized as coworkers. I pleaded for help and all they could say was that they were looking forward to seeing me in the office whenever I managed to arrive. To which they all laughed uproariously, apparently this was some sort of 'funny' to them. Well I think I have an idea that they won't be enjoying the coffee I'm planning to make tomorrow. If I make it to work that is.