At PorcFest, the kids owned the place. They were selling all the things, then had fun by the pool while their parents watched boring talks by people like Jacon Hornberger and Stephan Kinsella. I tried my hardest to keep it interesting…

Everytime Adam and I walked past the jungle gym, he decided to pay his dues and perform ten pull-ups. Every time. Even if kids were riding the place crazy.

It was some sort of truck or jeep — that jungle gym.  At one point, Adam pulled-up to pay his toll and a little girl was hanging from the bar, curious about this shirtless dude counting out loud.

She asked him what he was doing while he pumped his guns. He told her he was doing pull-ups. When he finished, he helped her do a sorta cutesy little girly pull-up. Her kid brain kicked in and went way beyond us. I watched her click out of grammar and click into logic. It was her goal today to perform a pull-up. We left her to her challenge.


I volunteered to try my best at the tollbooth, and I got four chin-ups, before my wimpy white-guy arms failed me. Then I saw the glorious slide.

The Slide. This is a thing kids did back then. They crawled up some stairs and slid down a slide. I climbed it and stood upon the summit, then looked around.


Look at those mountains! Look at those clouds! Man can only reach so high! I will reach slightly higher!

I stood on my stoic perch and remembered when I was a kid. When I didn’t care about anything. That’s what us kids do when we stand on cliffsides.

Then I jumped. And I felt pretty cool.


How fun it was! The slide grabbed me and took me for a ride. I was sliding down! I was moving! I was going somewhere!

I felt like the slide would swerve and shake and shimmy and lift up and move and slither and go wild. If anything, I felt my arms go up in freedom:richslide5

And where does freedom end but scuffed into the dirt. But I wasn’t upset. I wanted another ride. It took me a second to scurry and collect myself.

Then I remembered, we were just at PorcFest. Hold on, let me recollect myself. Here is how people at PorcFest talk to each other:

“Hey dude, what’s up. oh wait, you’re high? oh wait, you’re a girl? oh wait, we’re neighbors? oh wait, okay, next year….”

Then we saw Dylan. You may remember Dylan from last year as “the guy in the loin cloth.” He was lying low this year, just like me. No wonder we’re brothers in spirit:

rich and adam and dylan hell yea

Where was Dylan going? Who knows, man? We all hit the dirt, and we catch our feet, and we shake our heads. Then we look around — then we run!