When the bridge is a'rockin...

Don't come a'knockin. I believe that is how the old saying goes. To go, or not to go, that was the question. And the answer?, to go. Or, maybe just GO!!! So I did.
...
As I sit here on someone else's big red ball, I see the scene replaying vividly in my awesome new sunglasses that play movies. When I first got on the bus, I was not sure if it was headed in the right direction. A few minutes and 2 stops later I hopped out of the bus like a pro. First I saw the river, the Donau I believe, and then a saw a gathering of black-clothed people across the river.
I carried the necessary/emergency supplies on my back. A crossword puzzle book, McFit magazine, some water, cough drops, and 1 umbrella. Thank the heavens for not opening up and raining on my fellow fest goers and I, but it usually doesn't hurt to be prepared.

The Jahninselfest turned out to be bigger then it had appeared from across the Donau- as I neared the entrance I noticed there were 2 stages on either side of Stone Bridge, with even more ebon-dressed music fans scattered in between. I recognized the front man without much doing by his hat which I remembered from a photo I had seen while surfing. Next, I saw my seemingly Irish neighbor, decked out in his green shirt. I wondered if they would see me perched on Stone Bridge taking in the scene.

The entrance proved to be a portal into a magical meadow. The willow type trees spewed their seed, reminiscent of soft snowflakes falling upon us in slow motion. I wished I knew taiji quan at that moment. I passed the fare and the port-a-potties and finally found what I was looking for. There was much hugging, mega hellos, and mediocre handshakes. I would have enjoyed a mega milkshake too, now that I think of it. As the band of Nomads began to play, I tossed a bone with a little meat left on it to the dogs of the tribe. They fought over it for a moment, but didn't waste to much energy. They knew there'd be plenty more where that came from, as was always the case after a successful buffalo hunt.

Tales of Nomads, pirates, forests and barns bounced off Stone Bridge while the ethereal snowflakes rode the drafts down to earth. Traditional dancing, and the brew of the underworld accompanied the music, all working together to create the thing that cannot be described with words, only imagined.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, or, as my buddy Bob Frost used to say, "Nothing Gold Can Stay". So that was that. As darkness encompassed the crowd, the joy and laughter continued to flourish, and I went back across Stone Bridge.