Habaneros, Campers, and Jazz: A week in the life of Lynnea
Who knew that a bunch of peppers could start a riot? Another week of camp brought many unexpected events including the loss of a staff member due to an incident with peppers. In what can only be determined to have been a loss of common sense, one of the male counselors at camp (We'll call him "Mitch") decided that it would be a good idea to buy a bag of Habaneros (what I have been told is the hottest pepper in the world) and to feed them to his campers raw at dinner. The results: over a dozen sick campers throwing up in the grass, their cabins, and trash cans. The children were sweating bullets and complaining that their skin was burning while violently convulsing and writhing on the ground. The campers were sent to get medical attention while Mitch ran crying to his cabin, apparently feeling responsible considering it was he who gave the deadly peppers to the campers in an effort to be funny. Before he could be fired, he quit, packed his bags and left. This bizarre story should end there, but no, not at Silver Lake Camp. Everything must go one step further...that night as word got out to the campers that Mitch had left, they became enraged with the remaining camp staff for "making Mitch leave." What can only be described as a riot ensued as the campers began chanting "we want Mitch!" They ran screaming through the camp, pulling up the stakes that hold up a big (circus-type) tent, pulling out wooden signs placed in the ground and throwing such objects at the staff members. All I could think was "What is wrong with you kids who are chanting for the return of this guy who made your friends ingest something so terrible that they are still in the health station recovering?" But when you put 150 teenagers together in one camp, they will do anything to create drama. And drama there was.
So that was my week. In an effort to redeem a week that had been particularly trying in many ways, Matt and I attended the annual Hot Summer Jazz festival downtown tonight. For those of you who have not been to this festival, it consists of several stages set up on Nicollet Mall, each playing a different type of music. We heard some Brazilian Jazz, Salsa, and Swing. We were even able to take Swing dance lessons right there on the streets of Minneapolis and then practice while listening to a 30-piece Big Band. I write about this to encourage anyone who lives in this area to attend the festival this weekend: it goes until Tuesday, is completely free, and completely worth your time. While eating on the patio of The Local Irish Pub and listening to the final songs playing from the nearby stages, the pepper/vomit/riot episode seemed less like reality and more like a distant nightmare.
Who knew that a bunch of peppers could start a riot? Another week of camp brought many unexpected events including the loss of a staff member due to an incident with peppers. In what can only be determined to have been a loss of common sense, one of the male counselors at camp (We'll call him "Mitch") decided that it would be a good idea to buy a bag of Habaneros (what I have been told is the hottest pepper in the world) and to feed them to his campers raw at dinner. The results: over a dozen sick campers throwing up in the grass, their cabins, and trash cans. The children were sweating bullets and complaining that their skin was burning while violently convulsing and writhing on the ground. The campers were sent to get medical attention while Mitch ran crying to his cabin, apparently feeling responsible considering it was he who gave the deadly peppers to the campers in an effort to be funny. Before he could be fired, he quit, packed his bags and left. This bizarre story should end there, but no, not at Silver Lake Camp. Everything must go one step further...that night as word got out to the campers that Mitch had left, they became enraged with the remaining camp staff for "making Mitch leave." What can only be described as a riot ensued as the campers began chanting "we want Mitch!" They ran screaming through the camp, pulling up the stakes that hold up a big (circus-type) tent, pulling out wooden signs placed in the ground and throwing such objects at the staff members. All I could think was "What is wrong with you kids who are chanting for the return of this guy who made your friends ingest something so terrible that they are still in the health station recovering?" But when you put 150 teenagers together in one camp, they will do anything to create drama. And drama there was.
So that was my week. In an effort to redeem a week that had been particularly trying in many ways, Matt and I attended the annual Hot Summer Jazz festival downtown tonight. For those of you who have not been to this festival, it consists of several stages set up on Nicollet Mall, each playing a different type of music. We heard some Brazilian Jazz, Salsa, and Swing. We were even able to take Swing dance lessons right there on the streets of Minneapolis and then practice while listening to a 30-piece Big Band. I write about this to encourage anyone who lives in this area to attend the festival this weekend: it goes until Tuesday, is completely free, and completely worth your time. While eating on the patio of The Local Irish Pub and listening to the final songs playing from the nearby stages, the pepper/vomit/riot episode seemed less like reality and more like a distant nightmare.
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