Lobster Schlock

Every weekend I get to see a part of California that I've never before seen. Its really awesome; I feel like Huell Howser...only with smaller muscles and less of a Tennessee twang. This weekend I got to check out the annual Lobsterfest in the Port of Los Angeles. To summarize, as my dear friend Crystal put it, it was the "most fun ever at the worst festival of all time." Ha!

The premise was that you could get a Maine lobster meal for $17.00 (2 lobsters for $26.00...what a deal.) I'd never been to the port village, and it was fun to see the little shops and all the boats near the giant cranes and levers that hoist all our sea shipments for interstate ground transit. Technologically and logistically, its an amazing place to behold. The Lobsterfest was setup in the parking lot of one of the port village areas, and beckoned lobster lovers of all kinds through its red-shelled gateway.

We were greeted with a smaller-than-anticipated "festival" that consisted of a row of hot-food vendors, some craft stands selling the requisite tie-dye gypsy skirts and hemp-scented incense, and a few county-fair game booths where you could win a shabby stuffed dog if you merely picked up a yellow dart (I named my dog Creamy, because that's what the weird game booth operator kept calling him.) A few game booths had framed lithograph posters of celebrities, ranging from the innocent (Jessica Simpson) to the obscene (a nude Carmen Electra, so appropriate at a family festival) to the head-scratching (who the heck is Chingy, and why do I want a poster of him?) Wandering further back, we found a roped-off grassy knoll that was decorated as a Pirate commune, where bored-looking ren fair rejects milled about being...pirates, I guess. They were more slovenly than swashbuckling, but once the Eagles cover band started playing they showed their mad line-dancing skills. I know, I know. Pirates...line dancing...to an Eagles cover band. It was a dream come true.

And nothing brings out the freaks like a Lobster festival about five minutes from Compton, let me tell you. I think we saw representations from all sides of humanity, all colors, shapes, likes and dislikes. It was more diverse than the "Its a Small World" ride at Disneyland, and probably a lot more entertaining. Better music anyway.

After a two hour wait for all our friends to show up, we finally indulged in the reason for the season...da lobstahs. After some mild confusion about how to actually acquire on of the red-clawed seabugs, we found a spot on the ground and got crackin. Within 10 minutes we had devoured the lobsters, the dry biscuit that came with it, and most of us passed on the "cole slaw" that came with it all. Bellies full, we found the beer tent and mosied over to watch the pirate playground come alive with...belly dancers. Because nothing says "Yarr matey!" like a scantily dressed belly dancer. The best moment came when the announcer was introducing a dancer, and I guess one of the pirate PAs put in the wrong CD, and the MC was like "And here is the lovely, the sensous Alliyah, Princess of Arabia...hey, wrong CD guys, wrong CD! Hey! I mean...uhm...hey lets talk about Alliyah's outfit for a while..." Obviously these pirates had never heard of "breaking the proscenium" before, which basically means "Don't acknowledge to your audience that you're in a show while you're in the show." But one of the belly dancers was actually really talented, and the things she made her stomach do blew our collective minds. Yowza.

After the Eagles cover band, it was time for the all-female AC/DC cover band. We didn't quite shake all night long, but it was fun. The moon rose to a bright golden fullness, and over the water it looked lovely. Someone bought a giant bag of Kettle Korn, which we used to practice our valuable tossing-popcorn-in-someone's-mouth skills. We left small piles of popcorn all over the festival...you could tell where we had left our marks. Popcorn bandits...yarr! The final band was an actually awesome Queen cover band, and they didn't just cover the songs - they LIVED the songs. We all chanted "We are the champions!" and "We will rock you!" and screeched "FIND! ME! SOMEBODY TO LOOOOVE!", kicking our legs and foisting our fists into the air. The way I describe it, you probably think it was a rather rockin' festival.

But like I said...it was the most fun we could have possibly had at the worst festival of all time. And all told, it was a very fun time.