FLUGTAG!

To save you the Googling, it means “Flyday,” and is an event hosted by Red Bull about four times a year at various venues around the country (was last in Minnesota, I believe, where the distance record was set).  The idea is that local teams prepare their own craft that, with a push launch off the thirty-foot high ramp, are supposed to, um, fly as far as they can.  From what we saw yesterday, that’s about thirty feet straight down.

We were supposed to do this as a group scooter ride with the L.A. club, but as the date approached virtually all those who signed up bagged out, leaving us and one other to do the ride to Long Beach.  And he lived further downtown, so we ended up going most of the way by ourselves, and meeting up in the South Bay.  When we got down to the Long Beach Harbor, we met a mob scene.  From the account in the Times today, there were 105,000 spectators.  I think that was no exaggeration.  We cajoled a parking structure attendant to let both scoots in for the price of one, since we’d only be occupying one space.  At $12 a pop, a good deal.

First stop was the staging area where we could view the contraptions.  It was sort of like previewing floats at the Rose Parade;  a very low-rent parade.  Part of the judging is for “performance,” which means the crew has to do some dance or whatever prior to the launch.  Costumes were the order of the day.  We had rainbow men, lost men, cave men, and infantile men, to name

only a few.  The “craft” (loosely termed; see the rock above) were a bizarre assortment.  There were flying pink biplanes, flying Obamas, flying pianos, flying Nascars, and, hey, real Coast Guard flyboys!

We spent too long examining the lunatics.  By the time we made our way to Rainbow Harbor, most of the 105,000 had already gobbled all of the available real estate.  No seating; just squat wherever you could find a spot.  We ended up sitting on the rocks (ouch!) that lined the banks of the peninsula opposite the launch pier.  Good sightline, but I wished for binoculars.  And, of course, Summer finally decided to arrive.  No fog; no cool temps; no cloud cover.  Those rocks had been baking all morning.  We felt like fish on hot coals. 

Ah, but the idiocy was worth it.  The Flying Sombrero:

The flightless stork, baby in mouth.

The ever popular shark and porpoise ballet.

And the cave dudes and their rock.

I have some neat video of the launches, but after a frustrating hour trying to upload it I’ve given up.  Don’t know whether to swear at the program, the computer, or Verizon.  Actually, I vote for Verizon.