For a brief moment, I pondered whether arriving at 3:30 p.m. left J.J. and me with little to write about concerning the 2nd annual AutMus Festival. Perhaps everything worth writing about happened just before we got there or at 1 o’clock or something silly like that. I get pretty paranoid sometimes. Luckily, I was wrong. There was nothing to write about…all day long. We traversed one corner of the university’s green fields more than once to no avail. At best, all we could manage was tracking down a rumor about a little girl, a big slide, and a bloody tongue. I’ll tell you later.
I could’ve written about the bands or at least one band in particular. Unfortunately, none of them were really my cup of tea (or bottle of beer. Not that I actually drink anyway). Okay, so Honkey rocked my socks off a teensy bit (actually, just one). Their spirited, vulgar, and utterly white-trashy performance left me wishing I was more of a southerner than I am. And yes, I now possess a slight crush on JD Natasha (and her band). What a tight performance! They definitely made me wonder if I should plunk down a few bucks for the album the next time I’m at my friendly neighborhood electronic store (if they have it). Unfortunately, a crush on the lead singer does not a story make. I could’ve written about the food, but I was so paranoid about how sanitary that stuff was that I didn’t even try it. Well, I did try one taco, but I ate it so fast, it was like I didn’t eat it at all. What about the energy drink that J.J. said tasted like melted and expired candy? Did they know it was horrible? Is that why they gave it away? How about the kooky yet charismatic old-timer that proceeded to lecture me on how America’s economy goes up in flames if Las Vegas ever gets the smackdown put on it? Perhaps talking about the rides and games might’ve been a safe bet. It’s just a shame that both were in such short supply, I wondered if a 5-year-old’s birthday party wouldn’t be better equipped.
Maybe I could’ve even written about those departments or student organizations on campus that did not even make themselves visible at the festival. Hmmm…I might still do a story on that. Anywho, back to my non-story.
Aimless and exhausted, J.J. and I trudged as though we were stranded in the desert desperately searching for the refreshing salvation of water. The water cost $2, by the way, which, by definition, is known as a travesty or a sham. We shook hands, slapped backs, scribbled some notes, ran in to people we knew from work and school, and definitely managed more than our fair share of laughs. Just ask McAllen Mike and his band of merciful misfits. It’s amazing what kind of people you meet when you’re out there working a beat (Translation: looking for a story). Later, at around midnight, we shared a discussion with them at a local fast food joint concerning God, Katrina, charity, and Mortal Kombat. I continue.
At 9:44 p.m., a revelation bit me on the arm like an eager mosquito itching to find out whether my blood type satisfied it. Perhaps the reason I felt like an inadequate reporter was not my fault at all. Oh no. There simply was no story. We spent the entire afternoon waiting like an eager father anticipating his son’s first steps. Alas, our precious AutMus remained unfit to prop itself up on its legs and make its way toward us.
So even though interviewees bombarded me with such gems as “It’s a better turnout than last year,” there were just as many people proclaiming that “I don’t think it’s anything special.” Admittedly, I felt justified by their responses. Most of them gave their own suggestions about what organizers could do to improve the event. Some said more recognizable bands should be brought down here. Others provided vaguer responses by stating that those in charge should keep their ear to the ground and listen to what Laredo actually wants. All this information made one thing abundantly obvious to me.
Ultimately, no matter what happens, the citizens of Laredo and surrounding areas will continue to flock year after year to the gates that lead them into the open pastures of our fair university to witness whether or not AutMus can walk and, eventually, see how fast our baby can run. Because the bottom line is that Laredo needs “shindigs” and “happenings” like the AutMus Festival badly and our fair city, like the little engine that could, will make us so proud when it finally gets going (I hope).