Conversations & Cole Slaw

First, earlier this month my friend Wes and I enjoyed a stimulating conversation about hope, miracles and authority. I wrote about it in my October 9^th blog “Thirsty As A Moose”; Wes wrote about that same conversation in his post yesterday, “A Hot Stake or a Cold Chop”. It’s interesting to see our two different takes on the same conversation.

Speaking of conversations…

Yesterday my eldest daughter, Jennifer, dropped by to pick up her mail, treat me to lunch, and touch base. She told me what she’s been doing recently.

For instance, she just went down to Daytona Beach, just a two-hour drive south of Jacksonville.

Last week she met a young man, a friend of a friend, who invited her to a quaint Florida festival — Biketoberfest — also known as Bike Week At Daytona.

During this annual festival thousands upon thousands of bikers from all over gather to see and be seen drinking beer.

Instead of joining this new acquaintance pillion on his bike for the festival, Jennifer insisted that she drive her car and be the designated driver. Also, she refused to stay overnight in Daytona — a prudent move on her part. Things do get a little rambunctious there as the drinking day wears on.

Jennifer said every possible style of motorcycle and motorcyclist were on the scene. She described bikes covered in chrome and bikes covered with rattlesnake skins. She saw one bike for sale that had been reduced to only $50,000.00.

One of the first places Jennifer visited was the famous Cabbage Patch, known among sports fans as the World Capital of Slaw Wrestling.

What? You’ve never heard of Cole Slaw Wrestling?

Cole slaw is shredded cabbage mixed with relish, mayonnaise, oil and assorted spices. And, in this sport young ladies enter a plastic arena filled with cole slaw and wrestle. Sometimes in the competition participants have been known to experience a wardrobe malfunction. In fact, that happens in nearly every match.

This is a good clean sport because helpful volunteer spectators hose the ladies off after each contest.

Because so many motorcycles and throngs of bikers congest the streets, Jennifer said that the best way to get from point to point is by tram car.

Jennifer and the young man were riding aboard one tram car with a bunch of other people as the tram pulled away from a stop. Two very drunk young ladies, who were dressed appropriately for the occasion, ran to catch the tram trying not to spill their vodka barrels. The two girls swung aboard and plopped down into a seat facing two elderly tourist women there for the people watching.

One girl looked up and exclaimed in shock, “MAMA! What are you doing here!”

Neither girl nor mother had realized that the other was attending Biketoberfest. The drunk girl complained loudly to her friend, “I’m 30-years-old and I still can’t get out from under Mama’s thumb”.

Jennifer made it home safely.

I hope everyone else does too.

Maybe next year Ginny and I can drive down to Daytona for the festival. I’d like to attend Biketoberfest because it’s culturally broadening.

Besides, Ginny makes the best cole slaw in the world.

Maybe she would…

No.

No, I seriously doubt that.