Beg, Borrow, or Steele GOES BIG!!!
Posted on Friday, July 30 @ 09:53:47 EDT by eepirate | ![]() |
| Beg, Borrow, and Steele was more fun and successful than we ever could have imagined. It was truly a grassroots organized fundraiser with numerous people involved that came together to unite a community behind a common goal--a huge summer party-- I mean, the purchase of STEELE! This one belongs to everyone. Like last year, it was held at Adam Henry's back yard/crag/river paradise. | 
Dance Party Greatness. - Photo by Alex Maguire |
DANCE PARTY
It was only a week ago that Doc and Marty would have come back to the future, July 10, 2010. Imagine if they had stepped into the main cave that night.
"What have we done!? Great Scott! We've altered the course of history, and this must be an alternate reality!"
Nope Doc, you just landed on the hottest southern climber party on the planet!
With giant black vinyl tarps, we had closed in the first bunker in Adam's back yard. The inside of the tarps were painted with vibrant neon colors, and in the middle of the structure we erected a series of black lights and a disco ball, complemented by smoke machines and other lighting equipment. The people were smiling and laughing, decked out in some serious costume combinations, and prepared to enjoy a night of mayhem.
Doc would have seen a golden Buddha doing the robot, a hot dog wearing sunglasses, a male ballerina, a guy in a bright pink wrestling leotard, and in between these celestial objects were scantily clad guys and many gals "on they baddest behavior--lend me some sugar, I am yo neighbah!!!" Everyone was glowing-- literally-- not like J-Lo, more like the human torch. And by the way, call your mom, and tell her that all those ballroom dance lessons she made you take in middle school-- wasted. Fox trot? More like "drop down and get your eagle on girl..."
EZ-B (Ben Henson) was redlining all night in the DJ booth, mowing down acres of wall-flowers to establish a dance floor with the gravity of a collapsing black hole blooming like your grandma's rose garden. The beats were sick.
The walls were purposefully set three feet from the ground, so from the outside all one could see were dozens of feet stomping and a smattering of light trying to escape the increasing density of the moment. People breathed in and out of the tent, swapping between eating desserts from the "cobbla-wobbla" spread on the porch and refilling their cups with genuine high gravity Good People IPA from one of the two kegs we eventually floated. I looked at the time. It was only 10pm. Two hours of "high class" dancing later, we ran (stumbled) to the water and took a "fat southern dip."
A FAT SOUTHERN DIP
"This night has gone very well..." I mumbled to myself. We had just floated the second IPA barrel, and what ensued was a sort of cleansing of the spirit.
We had been successfully getting first-downs on people's comfort zones all day, and this was fourth and goal. Jumping off this rock into this flowing opacity of cold water would be the kind of punctuation that a night like this deserved: dissolution of self, letting go of the outside perspective, looking through your own eyes, stepping on the gas, and flying into oblivion.
There were five of us perched on a lonely rock hidden from view under the swift waters behind Adam's property. We had just taken the plunge and stood proudly as if it we had been through a sacred initiation. The moon was shy that night and the clouds hung low, cushioning the landscape far into the distance.
"Come on! Jump!" We were an enticing bunch, as we danced on the water's surface with our half submerged feet illuminated by glow sticks.
"Come on! Jump!"
"Splash! Splash! Splash!... Splash! Splash! Splash!"
The water was way up from all the rain that had fallen in the area; there was no light, albeit what we had on our hands, feet, and heads; and in this moment when you shriek like a puppy as the cold water finally collapses on the softness of your belly, you can't help but smile. Seconds later you're fighting to climb aboard an island of what seems to be a family of giant plankton glowing just above the surface of the darkness.
"These are my people!" You think to yourself as a helping hand pulls you to the island.
Everyone cheered in unison. A genuine explosion of uncontrolled air erupted from the mouths around me as if we were Scots winning our freedom from the English. Every William Wallace speech I'd ever memorized resounded through my head, and I imagined the emotional magma that bubbles up with every heart beat as a hail-Mary flies towards a crowded end zone... score.
"Yep, this entire day went very, very, very well... and wow that was dumb." We crashed into bed hard, and it had only just passed midnight.
This was all after 8pm of an all day event, so there's more-- but I'll be brief.
ORGANIZATION
Other than living our lives a quarter mile at a time, what do we (Tyler, Natalie, and I) have in common with Vin Diesel in every movie he's ever done? We're motha truckin outlaws! That's right, we run stop signs and red lights like its our job, and for this event we were pulled over for "excessively imagining" at every turn.
"You want to do what with the cave? Do you know how much power you're going to pull? The physics are simply mind blowing!" said the hater.
"One hundred and thirty-one Gigawatts!!!" we jested.
"How are you going to keep people out of the way while you set it up?" said the hater.
"Smoke and mirrors baby... smoke and mirrors." we jested.
"A zip-line over the river and a floating moon walk?" said the hater.
"And an army of didgeridoos with a full symphony orchestra in the background!" we were put in imagination prison for that idea, but I digress.
While the dance floor was being mysteriously erected, people filled up on some of the best pulled pork on Earth while checking out the stuffs at the silent auction. We interrupted the recovery from a day's worth of crushing and swimming with a heated tournament of sumo crashpad wrestling. And it got messy as Adam threw his "over the hill" birthday cake at the participants.... [sigh]. Somehow... somehow, we were spared from the rain. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with our syke bubble.
THE NUMBERS
105 people showed up.
We raised $2300 for the purchase of Steele (the crag, not the commodity).
60% chance of rain all day and night...
20 minute sprinkle from some friendly overcast skies...
SPONSORS:
Thank you! ADAM and LEA HENRY (property), Ben Henson (for staying up a week straight in preparation for the party and for those mad DJ skillz), Alabama Outdoors (crashpad, hangboard, training eq.), Black Diamond (sick backpack), Blue Water Ropes (4 quality ropes), ASANA (chalk bags), VooDoo (chalk bags and buckets), So Ill (good vibes), Mountain High (gift bags), Good People Brewing Co. (Two IPA kegs), First Ave Rocks, Chris's fantastic BBQ, and Five Ten (demo shoes).
Thanks also to everyone who donated gear to the silent auction and who brought desserts for the post-party treat. There are too many people to individually thank for input, ideas, and equipment...this was truly a group effort!
THE FUTURE
Look forward to the next southern summer event. I'll just give you the name for now: Slope n' Slide.
Holler,
Brooks
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