One thing I love about Austin is that there’s seemingly a festival or three every week. This past Saturday, I actually caught one, which caters to marching bands. Although there were many local marching bands, some came as far away as Louisiana. I’d signed up to volunteer for four hours, explaining to people about local farmers markets around town, gardening classes, community gardening opportunities, cooking and nutrition classes and kids programs.
Just behind me was one of the locations where marching bands would entertain the crowds, including me. As well placed as my table was, most people just viewed it as an obstacle to go around to get closer to the performers. At least I had a great view of the fun-dressed crowd. In between chatting with my fellow volunteer and reading culinary trivia, I actually talked with inquiring minds about food sustainability and nutrition.
Apparently, this was the third year for the marching band festival, but the first time I’d ever heard of it was through my volunteering network. And what a perfectly warm, sunny day to hang out, listen to good music, meet new people and see some friends.
Originally, I’d looked forward to the volunteer after party, but realized after my shift was over that there was a good two-hour window between when my shift ended and that party began. I was already starving; so I went to the nearby TexMex restaurant and sat at the bar, avoiding a wait list and getting a 10% discount. With that little task taken care of, I walked over to the parking lot where the last band of the night were playing. Even after their last song and an encore with some other musicians joining in, the crowd was still hyped and ready for more.
Nonetheless, the musicians took a break and I walked with them into the theatre that was set up for the “after party.” Although I had volunteered and I knew two people there, I felt like a gate crasher. They had been snacking away on some potluck food and the energy was present, but exclusive. Most of those people had been together and partying since Friday; so they mingled and broke off into groups and I felt more like an outsider. I would have had to make more of an effort to introduce myself than normal. With my luck, the people I would have talked to would not have lived in Austin anyway.
If some musicians would have returned to the parking lot after 30 minutes or so, I would have stayed and enjoyed the jam session, but there was too much down time for my blood. I always joke about being middle aged, but I never felt so middle aged as when returned home and to read rather than mingling and waiting for the music to start up again!