I’ve returned from my spur of the moment 1000 plus miles road trip to the mountains of North Carolina to witness the Possum Drop at Clay’s Corner. I thought I’d give you the highlights.
Mexican, Italian, bagels, burgers, and acorns were consumed. And by Mexican and Italian I don’t mean the living, breathing kind, but the food kind. The acorns were not the kind that grow oak trees but a delightful combination of Hershey’s kisses, bite sized vanilla wafers and a wee bit of pretzel stick held together with a bit of chocolate glue. They indeed look like acorns and were as delicious as they sound.
I shared a bed with Julio, the love junkie. Sadly, this did not mean a night of wild sex but caresses were exchanged. Ok, I did the caressing. Julio is not a hot Latin lover. He’s a cool, cool kitty, but not from New York City.
I ended 2011 with a new dance and started 2012 with an old dance. Before the Possum Drop, we stopped in at the John C. Campbell Folk School for some contra dancing. I had never contra danced before, but I jumped in and after a couple of missteps was dancing and laughing and having so much fun. After the Possum Drop, we headed back to Veve’s for wine and a bit of salsa dancing which I also love.
PETA was a no show so I got to experience the Possum Drop with a live possum! There was the Possum Queen contest where the best dancing cross dresser was crowned, some live bluegrass music and as the possum hit the ground fireworks lit up the sky above us. No possum was injured or harmed during the evening’s festivities. At least not in the immediate area. Possums may have been run over by cars in other areas.
It was cold! We were standing out for a couple of hours in 30 degree weather. It occasionally gets that cold in Florida, but I don’t stand outside for two hours when it does. It could have been worse. Several people standing near me commented that this was the warmest weather they had ever had for the Possum Drop.
But the best part of the weekend was the time spent with Veve. She is one of my oldest friends. Not that she’s old, because she’s my age and I’m not old unless you’re under 30 then everyone over 30 is old. No, Veve and I have been friends since the 6th grade. And since we live about 500 miles away from each other, we don’t often get a chance to chat over coffee or share secrets while sipping wine.
So was logging a little over 1000 miles in 72 hours to see a possum in a plexiglass box lowered at midnight worth it? In the words of Sarah Palin, “You betcha!”