Battered

It counts as success if you wake in the morning on the downstairs couch, your glasses nowhere to be seen, with a sore wrist and pain in your quadriceps that must have been occasioned by some sort of impact you can’t quite recall.

What you do remember, however, is how lucky we were to have a bit of drizzle that encouraged the assembled to congregate under cover, and while there wasn’t a fire, you could, by standing close to the makeshift kitchen, be plenty warmed by the steam rising from a phalanx of irons, at least one of which made spider designs on the outcomes, the others content to merely produce warm pastries perfect for the application of butter, jam, Nutella, syrup, whipped cream, or nothing at all.

After eleven years, you can almost take this shit for granted, but that would be a mistake; I’m sure if the space aliens landed atop the covered freeway, they wouldn’t believe their multiple eyes, but the report back to Alpha Centuri would be accurate: a hundred or so homo sapiens on two wheels arriving at a spot that still doesn’t fail to deliver.

Electricity is a naturally-occurring phenomenon; you just have to direct it.  Picture Old Ben Franklin out in the storm with hit kite and key: I’m sure he never could have envisioned this sort of application of his discovery, but I’m also positive he would have adored it.  Early to bed and early to rise may make someone healthy, wealthy, and wise; however, in doing so, they would miss the opportunity to stand on a picnic table and see patterned pancakes make like Frisbees across the crowded shelter to the delight of many a butter-fingered reveler surprised by deliciousness saucering their way.

We should all thank our lucky stars that technology, combined with competence and a unique set of skills makes such events possible; a single waffle would be plenty; a decade-plus of them is pure astonishment.