My favorite moment of the weekend had to be when the street fair was closing down Sunday night.
The sun had already scooted past the horizon line. Darkness was slowly descending. The vendors were packing up. The workers at the food stands were shoveling excess burgers and brats into big plastic bags.
The the buxom female lead singer of the alt-country band just announced "last call" from the stage and encouraged the last of the burned-out stragglers to move up towards the stage for one final dance.
And four whacked out transmediums moved front and center. They each found their spots on the pavement. Little planets in their own unique orbits. And they danced. Strange, off-kilter moves, not often seen on a dance floor. They danced with all their other-worldly energy.
They didn't notice each other. Or the other way too many cold beer victims. They danced alone. Tuned to a higher vibe.
It was sort of spooky and inspiring. This music, this very earth-bound music was lighting these folks up and they sparkled like flaming-out stars sputtering in the dark.
I stood stock still. Stone cold sober. I played the immovable post to their wild gyrations. There and not there at the same time.
It was a good show.