So, Harry and I attend a community night in a town about 25 minutes away. I wanted to see a real American community and ponder over differences, similarities and out-right amazing-ness.
The community event starts with food. A hall of food. You buy tickets at 50 cents each and the food is varied: Orzo salad = 4 tickets; burger = 3 tickets; cookie (the size of my FACE) = 2 tickets. You get the idea.
Incredibly, you could get five meatballs for 1 ticket. I got five meatballs – twice.
There are a lot of people in the food hall. The nice thing is, everybody’s having a good time, the kids are hanging out and eating with their parents, everybody is being sociable, supporting the event and they are proud of their community.
In the next hall there are all the stands and exhibitions. Here, also, there is candy. Harry is given a Halloween bucket and every stall has candy, so Harry asks very politely, in his best British accent (which always gets a fantastic response), if he please may have a sweetie. Oh how adorable! Yes you may…where are you from….would you like to sign up for free stuff (yes please)….I have a friend/cousin/aunt in the UK.
Harry is impatient to secure his next sugar hit, so off we pop to the next stall. Harry is greeted by Ninja turtles, guide dogs, Zumba enthusiasts, karate experts (he is rather taken with the fact you can shout and kick stuff, with karate – I may have to pursue that one), and a lady with natural make up (I was more interested in that one than Harry, but she still had Hershey bars, so Harry idled for a while whilst I engaged in conversation – as above – to ensure my free sample).
Harry’s Halloween bucket was well and truly stashed full of teeth-rotting, gut-curdling candy and so we made out of there a happy pair.
By now, it was very, very dark – and we’re out in the sticks. The sat nav brought us here on a back route, and I wasn’t overly-keen on going back that way, through forests and over dams and swerving to avoid deer. But, the sat nav took control and we slowly (v v v slowly) drove back through the winding roads.
Harry is silent.
Then he pipes up.
Mummy, I’m a bit scared.
There’s nothing to be scared about, poppet. (I am actually crapping myself – it is well spooky.)
Are you scared?
No, darling. (It’s okay to lie to your child about something like this.)
Can we listen to some music please?
So, I turn the radio up. A welcome distraction.
Bad Moon Rising comes on. I grimace/smile/think of the irony. What if the car judders to a halt? Who will get us? Jason? Freddy? The faceless truck driver from some rubbish film I saw? Will we be taken to a cabin and be slowly tortured? Will Harry save the day by whacking him round the head with his irritating plastic laptop?
This is a truly dark, deep, unknown, powerful and scary landscape I see now where those script writers and movie directors get their inspiration from.
Lights! I see lights! A highway! A garage! A shop! Civilisation!
Hooray! You see, Stephen King, not everyone gets bludgeoned/eaten/sucked in by a freak fog/bitten to death. Unless the axe murderer is waiting in our garage…….