The Stupids Go to the Garlic Festival

Today Jack, my mom and I went to the famous(?) Gilroy Garlic Festival, where the deadly combination of lots of food, 90 degree heat, and cheap beer made lots of fat people need medical attention. We probably passed four or five hugely overweight people flat on their wide backs under trees, looking, with the sweat and bulging fanny packs and all, a lot like beached elephant seals. Paramedics hovered over them with water bottles and fans, clearly thinking to themselves, "I went to school to hose down fatties in Gilroy, CA?"

Jack, no lightweight himself, was sweating profusely as well, but I wasn't embarrassed because within ten minutes of our arrival he looked as if he'd poured water all over himself on purpose.

I ate more garlic than a normal person should be able to handle. But look on the bright side, at least I don't have to worry about vampires for the next week. Also, I had the foresight to bring Altoids in case I decided to make out with anyone. I admit it didn't seem likely, but you can never be too prepared. The urge has struck at weirder times.

So we wandered around, sweating on passerby and being sweated on, and eating like we'd never seen food before. I had Garlic Fries, Garlic and Lime Calamari, Garlic Sausage, Garlic Chicken with Garlic Fried Rice, and at least three beers (Coors Light, natch). I currently feel like that overweight and smelly kid that no one would talk to in elementary school.

Who wants to make out?