Many of you may recognize the “Some Pig” reference from the touching children’s classic: Charlotte’s Web. A beautiful tale of friendship between a word-smithing arachnid and her porcine acquaintance. I, of course, am not referring to the heart-warming children’s classic, but instead to the Glenside Pig Roast, where I rode my scooter on Saturday — not to befriend a pig, but to enjoy one barbequed and consumed with beer…
Saturday was an unusually busy day. First I attended an all-day writer’s conference — you know, so I can hone my craft as a snarky blog-posting scribbler. Nothing works up an appetite like a full day of writing and thinking about ekphrastic poetry. Well, maybe working on a chain gang would. Or running a marathon. Or chopping wood for five hours. But anyway, after sitting around all day in air-conditioned rooms and contemplating ekphrasis, I was ready for a change of scenery and some food. Foregoing my annual block party, I instead elected to attend the much-ballyhoo’ed Glenside Pig Roast. Those among you with awesome powers of deductive reasoning may have hypothesized that the Glenside Pig Roast takes place in Glenside, Pennsylvania. (Those of you who hypothesized other things, you’re wrong.) Thus, Step One involved me ignoring the thunderstorms that were in the forecast and heading out on a 45-minute ride to Glenside, PA.
One of my friends is a coordinator for the GPR, as well as a fellow scooterist. So he was sympathetic to my request for a route recommendation that would not involve dying on Lincoln Drive. Lincoln Drive is a lovely, winding road that stretches through parts of Chestnut Hill and Mt. Airy. Unfortunately, it attracts a high percentage of drivers who suffer from the delusion that they are:
Or even this guy:
Trust me. No one on Lincoln Drive is these guys. If anyone on Lincoln Drive was these guys, I would quit my day job, move to Lincoln Drive, and set up one of those Wiley Coyote-style traps that has a box held up by a stick with a piece of string tied to it.
So my friend charted me a course on some charming back roads, but to get to those charming back roads, I first had to negotiate Kelly Drive, which has a posted speed limit of 35 miles per hour — essentially a feel-good charade or group psychosis that no one wants to admit is nothing more than a symptom of some traffic engineer’s mental disorder. People may go 35 mph as they are coming to a stop at a red light. Not before.
Riding along at 50 mph on Kelly Drive on two wheels is a perfect blend of “God, This Is Exciting” and “God, I’m Too Young To Die.” When I discovered today that Kelly Drive was detoured due to a regatta, a little “God, Why Didn’t I Pay More Attention When My Ex-Bf and I Rode Through This Detour?” was added to the mix. By mindlessly following the person in front of me, I some how rode along through Strawberry Mansion and ended up back on Kelly Drive. Forty-five minutes and one tailing-SUV later, I found myself in idyllic Glenside, PA.
Truth be told, I had only been to my friend’s house one other time, so even though he told me I could park in his driveway, I wasn’t really sure which one it was. And Glenside has more than one driveway. If any of his neighbors had been at home, rather than at the Pig Roast themselves, it might have occurred to one of them to call the cops — as a strange woman on a pink scooter, peering into a garage to determine if she could see a 250cc fuel-injected Vespa and confirm that she was in the right location must on some level seem suspicious.
But as you can see from this Welcome Sign — which sports a little pig that merrily says “Eat me” — I found the right driveway and made it to the Pig Roast.
More importantly, I found the food and beer tents:
And I was, of course, relieved to see that no one under 21 was allowed to drink beer — because I’m old and I don’t want to have to compete for beer with any young whipper-snappers.
I was even given my very own official, branded, high-quality, GPR 2016 beer cup in which to place my beer:
And what Pig Roast would be complete without an official, pig-roast band?
I’m already looking forward to GPR 2017… So, until next year, Wilbur. Until next year…