Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Chapter 2: Inflammable
The next day, which I will call Saturn’s Day, was by far the height of the weekend for me. There was an event that was described as the Fire Run, which I took to mean there was some sort of flaming hoop or bone fire that I was supposed to Little Jack Horner through (no wait, Little Jack Horner sat in the corner. Who jumped over the candle? Jack Flash? Flash Gordon? Barbara Gordon? Another terrorist and now she’s in a wheelchair. But that’s ok because she’s 1337 hax). The IES Events Coordinator sent us all an email that if we were going to go to the fire run we should wear protective clothing not only over out arms and legs, but over our head, mouth, and eyes too. But that was just them being over protective to legally cover their asses. Right?
The directions provided to us as to how to get to the Fire Run were vague at best (You know the Milkyway? Yeah, it’s around there somewhere). And no one we asked seemed to know where it was. We asked plenty of people, some were tourists, some were security guards, some were our pals the policemen, some worked in stores filled with dead animals that creeped me out, no one knew. Eventually I figured out the best way to get to something that you don’t know the location of, is to go to the least likely place for it to be. I knew the Fire Run involved demons, so I took the gang to the Cathedral. Well, I took Hanna, Courtney and Deeba (the Muslim Republican who doesn’t realize her party hates her); it’s hard to keep a group of ten people together in a citywide hubbub. It is also hard to find a way to use the term ‘hubbub’, but given time to prepare it can be done.
So of course, relying on my vast intellect (or lucky guess) the four of us were able to find the Fire Run just outside of the Barcelona Cathedral. Based on the sheer number of people in attendance at the thing, I was able to assume that all the people we asked knew exactly where it was, but since they could not go they acted jealously and attempted to hide the information from us. The plaza, which is fairly large, was packed wall to wall with people. I’m fairly certain that there were at the very least a kaggillion people there (it’s a real number, look it up). Having that many people crammed into that finite of a space and then adding fire seemed a stupid idea. But Spaniards apparently put very little value on human life when fiery trampley death is a possibility, so the night went on.
Out of a huge doorway, reminiscent of the gates of Hell, galloped The Morning Star in a dark chariot. Well, the horses galloped, he just sort of waved at people. He winked at me. That’s a good sign right? Right?
Lucifer then mounted a huge stage and gave an impressively long speech. I have no idea what he was saying, but I called out ‘yay’ or ‘si’ along with the crowd. We called out excitedly at first, eager to impress our dark master, then with increasing apathy as it became clear he was reading the Oscar acceptance speech from… well… Heck, with no sign of a band to play him off. Finally, (and I hope you understand the utter relief I’m trying to affect when I write that) Satan climbed back into his chariot and began to ride away. It was great, because from where I was standing, I got to be the person right behind the departing chariot as the crowed followed. I was kind of hoping the Devil would invite me to ride with him, sort of like a demonic version of Santa and Elf, but it turns out the Prince of all Darkness is a selfish douche-bag, and I had to walk.
All of a sudden Douchey McBaggerson stopped his chariot built for two, but occupied by one. He lifted his trident into the air and it exploded, raining sparks and fire onto the crowd, specifically onto me. Then the devils demonic pyrotechnic minions burst into the crowd with more staffs that showered the crowd with fire. In celebration the whole crowd danced in heathen depravity through the streets of Barcelona.
Just in case the imagery escapes you, readers, allow me to impress upon you the important fact that fire was raining from the sky. Real, hot, flaming fire was falling onto those foolish enough to dance with the devil. They were shooting us with flamethrowers, and we were dancing because of it. And I don’t know if you’ve played with fire recently, but that stuff burns. Hanna’s shirt caught on fire. Fuego! And when I tried to put it out (because only I can prevent people fires) do you know what happened? I caught on fire. Fuego! Don’t worry, all shirts and persons survived the fire (nothing can kill the Harvard shirt, its self importance is just too powerful). But next time I go to a place where they shoot you with flaming death, and someone tells me to bring a hat so my head doesn’t catch on fire (Fuego!), I think I’ll do it.
The directions provided to us as to how to get to the Fire Run were vague at best (You know the Milkyway? Yeah, it’s around there somewhere). And no one we asked seemed to know where it was. We asked plenty of people, some were tourists, some were security guards, some were our pals the policemen, some worked in stores filled with dead animals that creeped me out, no one knew. Eventually I figured out the best way to get to something that you don’t know the location of, is to go to the least likely place for it to be. I knew the Fire Run involved demons, so I took the gang to the Cathedral. Well, I took Hanna, Courtney and Deeba (the Muslim Republican who doesn’t realize her party hates her); it’s hard to keep a group of ten people together in a citywide hubbub. It is also hard to find a way to use the term ‘hubbub’, but given time to prepare it can be done.
So of course, relying on my vast intellect (or lucky guess) the four of us were able to find the Fire Run just outside of the Barcelona Cathedral. Based on the sheer number of people in attendance at the thing, I was able to assume that all the people we asked knew exactly where it was, but since they could not go they acted jealously and attempted to hide the information from us. The plaza, which is fairly large, was packed wall to wall with people. I’m fairly certain that there were at the very least a kaggillion people there (it’s a real number, look it up). Having that many people crammed into that finite of a space and then adding fire seemed a stupid idea. But Spaniards apparently put very little value on human life when fiery trampley death is a possibility, so the night went on.
Out of a huge doorway, reminiscent of the gates of Hell, galloped The Morning Star in a dark chariot. Well, the horses galloped, he just sort of waved at people. He winked at me. That’s a good sign right? Right?
Lucifer then mounted a huge stage and gave an impressively long speech. I have no idea what he was saying, but I called out ‘yay’ or ‘si’ along with the crowd. We called out excitedly at first, eager to impress our dark master, then with increasing apathy as it became clear he was reading the Oscar acceptance speech from… well… Heck, with no sign of a band to play him off. Finally, (and I hope you understand the utter relief I’m trying to affect when I write that) Satan climbed back into his chariot and began to ride away. It was great, because from where I was standing, I got to be the person right behind the departing chariot as the crowed followed. I was kind of hoping the Devil would invite me to ride with him, sort of like a demonic version of Santa and Elf, but it turns out the Prince of all Darkness is a selfish douche-bag, and I had to walk.
All of a sudden Douchey McBaggerson stopped his chariot built for two, but occupied by one. He lifted his trident into the air and it exploded, raining sparks and fire onto the crowd, specifically onto me. Then the devils demonic pyrotechnic minions burst into the crowd with more staffs that showered the crowd with fire. In celebration the whole crowd danced in heathen depravity through the streets of Barcelona.
Just in case the imagery escapes you, readers, allow me to impress upon you the important fact that fire was raining from the sky. Real, hot, flaming fire was falling onto those foolish enough to dance with the devil. They were shooting us with flamethrowers, and we were dancing because of it. And I don’t know if you’ve played with fire recently, but that stuff burns. Hanna’s shirt caught on fire. Fuego! And when I tried to put it out (because only I can prevent people fires) do you know what happened? I caught on fire. Fuego! Don’t worry, all shirts and persons survived the fire (nothing can kill the Harvard shirt, its self importance is just too powerful). But next time I go to a place where they shoot you with flaming death, and someone tells me to bring a hat so my head doesn’t catch on fire (Fuego!), I think I’ll do it.
# posted by Mr Tim @ 3:18 PM 
