Gretchen and I had been to it once before, the Kingston Artists' Soapbox Derby, and ever since that experiece we've had the idea that we should make our own soapbox. But we've never mustered the necessary ambition, and we've never even returned to see another derby, even though it takes place only six great circle miles from our house. Today, though, the derby was happening again and we were determined to go. Penny and David, who had been yard saling this morning, showed up at our place a little after 11:00am. They even brought me some fiberglass insulation that was being given away. They also brought an incredibly tall friend of David's, a Frenchman named Philippe.
The five of us (without dogs) drove down to the Rondout and eventually met up with Susan the German translator, who was up from the City with her boyfriend Hanvey. She'd just completed the paperwork on her divorce and mailed it from a public mailbox with great fanfair.
We staked out a place on the north side of the street. It was a good spot for watching the derby, but left us exposed to the sun (the shady spots on the south side of the street had already been claimed). Penny went back to her car and got three umbrellas, which made our situation much more tolerable.
Meanwhile David and Phillpe were waiting in line for sandwiches at a nearby deli. The place was all jacked up by the sudden uptick of demand. I decided to go further afield, and found a restaurant that had set up a sidewalk stand of beef-in-a-pocket, platanos, and Spanish rice. I ordered a combo plate and found it submediocre.
Eventually the soapbox derby got going, slowly at first and then with increased momentum. A couple of DJs from WKZE were serving as MCs and managed to fill the space between derby entrants with entertaining comic banter.
I hadn't remembered this from the derby we'd attended four years ago, but a fair number of the gravity-powered floats coming down the hill failed spectacularly early in their descent, in some cases losing control and crashing into the tires lined up on either side of the street. In these cases, the crestfallen designer would drag the remains of his creation down the hill to the polite applause of the crowd.
I also didn't remember the range of quality of the creations. Some were extremely elaborate, with shooting flames or video-based guidance systems. But there were a few that weren't much more than hand trucks or wheelbarrows.
When the show was over, Susan, Hanvey, Gretchen and I became separated from Penny, David, and Phillipe. Our contingent ended up in the outside part of the Acapulco Grill across the street, whereas the others were down at the awards ceremony at the bottom of the hill. The waitress at the Acapulco was cute, the ambience was good, and Gretchen enjoyed her mojito, but the food wasn't so good. I ordered a burrito and it had almost no flavor whatsoever. You'd think a restaurant with a real kitchen could outperform a ghetto burrito trailer, but in many cases you'd be wrong.
Phillipe (in the white shirt) and Hanvey (in yellow and black).
Me and Gretchen.
Gretchen (left) and Susan the German translator at the Acapulco Grill.
The waitress at the Acapulco Grill was much tastier than the food.
A massive box of Chinese food!
Yellow Submarine. This float used a tiny video camera so its driver could steer it in the correct direction. It also featured large work boots on sticks as brakes and a couple women blowing soap bubbles out the back.
Some of the inter-float comic banter, followed by a topiary-themed float.
A huge shiny toaster, complete with crumb tray and Energy Star rating.
