Fuck Flugtag

When Red Bull has an event (Red Bull Flugtag) that garners the attention of between 20,000 and 30,000 Trinidadians, (almost all of whom are intent on drinking rum in the hot sun) located in the peninsula of the island's Western tip, it's generally a sign to stay off the road (even if it is a Sunday). Unfortunately for some of us that wasn't an option, especially when you're riding with your friend who decides he wants to win "Cousin of the Year Award" by depositing his relative at the very epicenter of this chaotic spiral of automotive stagnation and death.

Still, with the proper equipment one can with relative success, conquer any boredom, dispelling both intellectual stagnation and scorching heat. For the latter one requires air conditioning, which fortunately was readily available. For the former one may avail of friendship, music, a camera, and as we see below, a sketchbook.

I should note that some of these were taken by my friend, winner of the 2011 National Cousin Of The Year Championship Cup, Damir Ali. Obviously I can't take a picture of myself drawing because I'm neither a cephalopod nor a Hindu deity.

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Here we see a troupe of the natives taking an innovative approach to the situation. Having realized that they'd never get to the 'flugtag' on time if they jumped in a car, they've decided to avoid the 3+ hours of traffic by simply walking... for several miles.

Now this was certainly not an isolated revelation. In fact as the hours passed, the pedestrian approach continued to infect larger and larger numbers of people, to the point that an anthropologically aware observer could hypothesize, with good reason, that Trinidadians were simply reverting to a familiar Carnival-ian instinct, grabbing a beer and transforming the very act of walking into a lime.

This is of course a brilliant improvisational tactic, however it should come as no surprise that Trinidadians adopted this strategy as indeed, liming is the only thing that they as a people, are truly good at.

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The rest of us boring folks just took pictures of the generally mundane surroundings, hoping for a gem or two among the rubble.

This is definitely what I call a gem. 

It looks like a dress... it's not (unfortunately), but it looks like one...

What is that thing with a football for a cork underneath his arm?

Where is he going? What is that bucket for? Is that a cigarette in his hand?
These are all questions for which, answers I shall never find... For shame.