Moods for celebration

When it is raining, one shouldn't even go to one of those fairs. But when I left home, it was still dry and once I got there, it started to trickle.

Others had seen it coming; they just weren't there. As a result, there were very few visitors, and those few that were dwelling this slowly soaking terrain, didn't have any lust to visit one of the rides. Nonetheless, all the rides were running, sang out their organ music, and their operators were yelling to come in, have fun and joy, and lots of laughter.

But no one did, because celebrating a fair is a fever that, in the chill of a rain shower - by now, the trickling had turned to heavy rain - simply won't happen.

I decided, meanwhile, to ignore the elements and take the tour, as if nothing was more appropriate. I let myself spin and turn, went for bumps and shocks in some machine especially designed for this, got sick in the roller coaster, and hurled lonely but rough downwards along the railed water carts. Enough soaked, stirred and shaken, I then went to the bakery-stand - poffertjes - to feast myself on this ritual gourmet.

That stand was truly empty, but at least dry. A very fat men wearing white was baking away, with that blase stance of a gourmet-chef, and some obnoxious fellow - figure Dostojevski - came over to take my order. I wanted poffers, just like that bloke over in the corner. Because there was someone else...

He sat two tables away from me, and he was talking to his baked goods. Before he ate a bite, he excused to the poffer, for eating it. This is not to be taken as being overly polite, because this big, blushing man was taken by alcoholic overheating.

I am always fascinated by lonely drunks. I do not understand them; I always get the impression, they just fell of a fully loaded party-train, and continue what they started in better company than myself. This man meanwhile, was exhilaration in the flesh. He had an intimate, yet royal pleasure, and from time to time - usually very unexpected - he sounded a contagious giggling laugh, that even disturbed the chef.

The last of his poffers, he put in the pocket of his pants; as if it were his rightful share of change coins. Of course this gives sticky stains, but that would strike him only the other day. In the meanwhile he was mimicking a train. He went hissing and puffing through the empty stand and - from time to time - he produced a very well copied steam whistle.

He stopped at my table, and let out a lot of alcoholic smoke. "Do you want to be the coal tender?", he informed. I felt like a student, on some examination, being asked about a book I didn't study. So it took me a while to produce an answer; by the time I knew something to say, the train had already left the station and hurled yelling around the corner.

Some fifteen minutes later, I spotted him again. By now, he had thrown off his railway-disguise, and was at a shooting-stand. Although he wasn't hitting anything, any shot, no matter how much off-target, gave him reasons to be very cheerful, and loud hurrah's. He was having a very good time, even when - tired of shooting - he was roaming through the rain, looking for new sources of fun.

Singing very loud, he let himself spin and turn, and being molested by the venomous torture of the moving stairs; real drunks, never get hurt. By the time he - whilst producing far-carrying Indian-yells - was using the air-swing, he began to draw strong attention. He was ogled at, and spoken about. Mothers lifted their children, to look up and see, what they should not turn into.

By the time he went to the tellers area, because he - most probably out of denial - wanted tickets for still more rides, the serious youngster entered the scene. This young man was with the police - and not for very long, clearly. Nonetheless, he was well informed of what was done, and not-done. Our lonely party-animal was, according to the standards of authority, a forbidden entity. He took him by the arm, and lead him to the gates.

By then, no one had fun anymore...

(White Courtesy call: Simon Carmiggelt, hope you like this translation)