Bringing out another story from the PA German Festival: (and its a little long)
As part of my job description, - oh wait - there wasn't a description as to what I did. I did everything. Set up, errand girl, garbage collector, handicap parker...the list goes on. But one fun filled day ended with me as human blockade.
It's so much better than it sounds.
I physically stand in a drive way until the crafters are allowed on the ground to pack up some of their more precious wares for the night. We let them drive up, stow their things in their vehicles, and then go back to long term parking. But they aren't allowed to do this until all the paying visitors have left the grounds....which takes time since in all our years we've never printed just when the festival ends. But its supposed to be @ 6 and the crafters know it. So at 5:50, they're ready to run over anyone who gets in their way.
Of course this would not happen to the football players on the crew that were also part time bouncers. No, it would have to happen to 5'6" me, one of just 2 girls on an all boy crew. The van is coming up the hill and I'm standing in the driveway.
I hold out my hand in front of me, the universal sign to "Stop". The van keeps coming. I hold both hands out to the side. The universal sign of, "Don't go past this point". He doesn't slow down.
Well my brother was the boss and he told me not to let them on the grounds, so I've made up my mind not to move. But the crafter in his van that is much bigger than me, keeps coming. My brilliant Idea- and I had one:
When the van was close enough without me having to move, I stepped up on the bumper and stood there. I hugged the van for a little comedic effect that the driver was not inclined to appreciate. But he did stop now that I was his personal hood ornament.
Thank god he did because without ever looking two little kids ran behind me from one of the side routes that was in the guy's blind spot. Eight year old road kill is not a good year...and I'm not sure the insurance covered us for accidents like that.
He yelled at me but I stood on his bumper till he put the parking break on, let him call my brother, yell at him, and be told the same thing I told him. He'd have to wait.
(I returned to standing in front of him and when he inched up I simply braced my foot on his bumper. It was a Clint Eastwood, make my day moment.)
I still wonder what he would have done if I'd told him he was trying to run over the little sister of the assistant director of the festival. You know, the guy that decides whether he comes and makes the bulk of his seasonal profits at our (multi million dollar) festival, or ,at best, seven other dinky craft shows.
But who else gets to say that they were almost slow motion road kill? ;3
Sleeping En Community Member 
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