This weekend was Festival of the Little Hills weekend. It’s the biggest festival of the year in St. Charles, which is home to many a festival. It wishes it was half as cool as the Walnut Festival.
And I mean that literally. Little Hills Fest takes place in late August and is always miserably hot. Walnut Fest takes place in late September and is usually not so sweltering.
Despite the heat, everyone in St. Louis turns out for LHF, because — as I’ve said many times — everyone in St. Louis will go anywhere and do anything if it’s free. Even if it’s just walking up and down a cobblestones street past booth after booth of arts and crafts and food items. In the heat.
We decided to go down Friday night in the hopes it wouldn’t be as hot or crowded. We agreed to meet up with Stevie and the Peines beforehand for dinner. Turned out it was still hot and ridiculously crowded, but to our amazing luck we were able to get a parking space in the city garage. Then we waited and waited for our friends, who were not so lucky.
After dinner we began walking the street and got 3 booths down before The Wife found a booth she had to shop at. She decided not to waste everyone’s time and she would come back tomorrow. We got about halfway down Main Street when the lightning flashes convinced us it was time to head home. But not before picking up two large bags of Kettle Korn from the people who dress like it’s the 1850s. If you’re going to buy Kettle Korn, buy it from the people in costume.
The Wife got up bright and early Saturday morning so she could beat the crowds and heat and get a good parking space. And it probably would have worked if she hadn’t stayed four hours. I don’t know how anyone could spend four hours shopping at the Little Hills Fest, and I’m glad I wasn’t there to witness it.
Sunday morning we were low on Kettle Korn, so I agreed to take The Son down to do a walk through the festival and pick up some more. “I saw one of the booths had gyros. You can eat lunch there,” The Wife says.
I figured the street would be practically empty as everyone would be in church, but it turned out the LHF brings out the heathens in droves. It turns out many a booth was selling gyros, but I’m not sure that I trust festival booth gyros. It turned out the big food item of the fest was “Walking Tacos.” I don’t know what a walking taco is, or why anyone would want to eat something that walks, but I decided we would eat after we were finished.
The Son and I managed to walk the length of Main Street and the circle around the riverfront park, buy Kettle Korn and got back to the car in about an hour. Or in one-fourth of the time it takes The Wife to walk the festival.
(Is one-fourth right? I’m lousy with math.)