By Sherri Freedom

I’ll admit it. I was afraid at first. I had seen the website; I had heard the stories: Lawn
Olympics, with all its renowned competition, athleticism and trash talk was fast approaching. “Many will try; few will triumph”…how could I possibly hope to measure up? I’ll be found out for sure. Nevertheless, somehow I managed to get myself there. Alone, mind you, and in the rain. Amazing how few were deterred by the weather, I thought at first. In retrospect I wonder what those lily-livered cowards were thinking. I had triumphed over them simply by showing up. Immediately chastised by one of the gods for bringing my own beer, I quickly stashed it before anyone else was the wiser. I had much to learn, I realized, and decided to dispense myself the first of many margaritas from the giant McDonald’s cooler and see what the day had in store.

As things got underway, the ever-increasing crowd was sorted into its clans. This increased my stress level as I realized that my own performance would be less anonymous than I had hoped. But as I looked around at my new team mates, I felt hope rising, for here was a group of people who had potential. This was just a first impression, but something told me we were meant for great things.

The events of the day were too numerous to be witnessed, let alone participated in by one individual, so I limited myself to the Odyssey of the Mind, Pass the Trash, and my clan’s signature event: Cribbage. There was Wiffle Ball, Croquet, Egg Toss, Bocce, Foosball and Horseshoes. There were children, dogs, kegs, grandparents; there was a giant refreshment tent. There was fierce competition, throughout which the gods roved, doing their part to keep people Merry, Sustained, Stylish, Spirited and…on Fire? Ok, lit.
Participants were eliminated, champions emerged triumphant. Trophies and gifts were presented and as the sun began to set, the air of the event began to change.

Here it becomes somewhat difficult to report accurately due to my failure to seriously heed the advice of the God of Merriment (“Pace Yourself!”), but I’ll do my best. LOADed was about to commence. I remember superheroes on the rooftop. I recall a large pit filled with shredded paper and gasoline being ceremoniously lit with fireworks--an impressive bonfire to be put to a sinister purpose later. I remember an unfortunate chap named Chod singing a rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner for his fellow Olympians. Suddenly the superheroes descended from above (they really can fly?) and distributed jello-shots to the masses. The rest of the event becomes even hazier. There was beer die--I understand two lovely ladies took an awful beating. There was bra burning. There was debauchery behind the shed…in the parking lot…in one of the tents…goodness knows where else, but definitely not in the God of Sustenance’s Jeep! There was bocce at 4 in the morning.

When the last cab left the hallowed fields of Riverside, I was the final conscious being. After extinguishing what remained of the ceremonial bonfire that consumed my favorite $30.00 bra, I went into the house, and moving carefully amongst the bodies on the floor, found space enough for my sleeping bag and quickly passed into unconsciousness.

I’ll admit it. I was afraid at first. But I was among the few, the triumphant, as was my clan. The Cribbage trophy holds a place of honor on my coffee table until next year, or the year after that…For you see, I am no longer afraid. I’ll never miss another Lawn Olympics. It was an event unparalleled by anything in my experience. It was an honor to have attended. And in the future, I’ll be sure to pace myself.