GETTING MORE TALE #510: Kayys?

We only get to do it once a year, so you gotta make it count!

Readers here have been treated to many tales from Sausagefest every year, the annual music countdown that occurs every July at a top secret outdoor location.  The parties are epic and the music is never disappointing.  You’ve read all about the countdown and activities many times here and even been treated to a few videos.  Sausagefest is such a blast every year that even the trip up is worth hearing about.

My two passengers this year were Uncle Meat, and Chris the Lamb Lad.  We had to pack a lot of stuff into my little Pontiac G5 including three coolers.  The Lamb Lad had packed his cooler full of freshly made pulled pork for everyone.  Perhaps even more important than the succulent and delicious pulled pork was the music selection.  Uncle Meat commandeers the stereo, but I brought four flash drives loaded to the brim with tunes.  I had spent several hours curating the music on these flash drives, much longer than we would actually spend listening to them.

Instead, we spent most of the time listening to the CDs that Uncle Meat brought.  As many music fans in Ontario now know, recording artist Paul MacLeod passed away a couple months ago.  Paul and Uncle Meat were very close friends, and Paul had set aside a couple CDs of his for me to review.  Meat gave them to me, and we listened to Paul in the car, with Meat remembering the good times.  I now own his albums Close and Play, and Tell the Band to Go Home.  Both are incredible, but we’ll save that for the eventual reviews.

Also given to me were two studio CDs by recording artist and Sausagefester Max the Axe:  self-titled, and Overload.  There was some pretty heavy metal on those two CDs.  Thanks to Uncle Meat, I now own three Max the Axe albums in total.  Needless to say, there was plenty of rocking in the car.

“Livin’ the Country” from Overload (2008)

Meat was on his best behaviour.  No backseat driving at all this year, which was an awesome change of pace.  He also didn’t piss in the middle of the road this time.  Up through Salem and into Arthur, we made our first stop at Tim Horton’s for some ice capps.  Usually I was the most prepared of us, but this year I neglected to eat a good lunch before we departed.  I was starving and ordered a steak wrap.  Unfortunately the place was really busy, as it always is, and I should have known it was going to take 20 minutes.  While I waited inside for my wrap, Meat and the Lamb Lad went outside for a smoke.

Moments later, Meat came back into the store.

“Kayys?” he said to me.

“Kiss?” I responded.  I had a flash drive with every single Kiss album.  Gotcha covered.

“Kayys?” he repeated, hand outstretched.  People looking at him now.  Lots of people waiting in line.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” I said uselessly.

“Kayss?” again.

I stood there like a doorknob; lots of people there looking at us trying to see what this weirdo was doing.  “Kayss?” he kept repeating.  It was clear I had no idea what he was asking, so he finally broke character.

“Keys?  Can I get your car keys?  I left my smokes in the car.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, you friggin’ goof?” I said as I dug for my keys.

“I did!” he retorted.  “Kayss?”

OK, I heard it now.  In the meantime, me and everybody else in Tim Horton’s in Arthur assumed he wanted a kiss.

We made our way up the windy country roads, listening to more Paul, more Max, but no Kiss.  Next stop was Flesherton.  There used to be a killer chip wagon there, but it has been gone for the last two years.  Instead, Lamb Lad went into a sandwich place and ordered what looked to be some pretty amazing food.  Outside, an elderly couple in the late 70’s or early 80’s seemed to be having an argument.

We waited for Lamb Lad to order, and then stepped outside again so the guys could smoke.  As we walked out, a cop car pulled up and blocked in the elderly couple!  It seems somebody had taken notice of their discussion and called the cops.  The couple looked like they had figured out whatever it was just as the cops arrived.  It was weird to see this happening in Flesherton Ontario with a couple who looked older than Moses.  We shook our heads and marvelled at how weird the day was getting before we even arrived at Sausagefest.

But the farm wasn’t far, and before we knew it, our destination was at hand.  Familiar faces were greeted, and help was offered in setting up tents.  It’s a magical place.  There are friends here that we only see once a year, but have bonded with like brothers.  It’s a remarkable experience to have.  And the music ain’t bad either.

“Giants” from Close and Play (2006)