Momentary Blindness

We make our way down Clinton St. and find ourselves approaching downtown Saratoga.  The midday sun blinds me completely, seeping its way into my dark winter clothing, warming up my rough skin. A truck of different smells hits me the second we turn onto Broadway.  Hints of savory, spicy goodness float through the air, allowing us to instantly know which way to turn.  As we begin to make our way through the sea of bodies, it becomes evident just how many people decided to come to Chowderfest this year.  People left and right continue to push into me, push past me, bringing me a combined sense of annoyance and thankfulness.  I become thankful to have so many warm bodies surround me as the chilly air seeps down the neck of my jacket, sending a tingling sensation from the base of my head down my spine to my lower back.  I get pulled in the direction of whichever chowder stand is closest and bury my head into my friend's shoulder as we wait on line.  The smell of cigarettes surrounds me and I begin to hear a distant rock band playing some cliche 80's song.  The sound of this distant music reminds me of childhood road trips when our parents would blast this same music as our shitty evergreen Volvo wagon rolled down the freeway.  Before I get too nostalgic, a cup of fried chicken chowder is placed in my shivering hands.  The warm chunky liquid pushes past my teeth, burning my tongue, and eventually sliding down my throat.  Shouting and laughter ring between my ears, as we quickly devour the gooey chowder.       

(Chowderfest on Broadway, Saratoga Springs, February 2, 2018)