Remember when you were a little kid and your mother used to kick you out of the house and tell you not to come home until the street lights came on? I did that to myself this evening. I felt like staying in and knitting or reading my new book or playing with my toys. But I told myself no, summer’s short, festival season is upon us, get out there and enjoy it.
That’s one of the disadvantages of living in this kind of climate – you try and squish so much into the tolerable half of the year, and then you OD on outdoor activities because you can’t let yourself stay inside and read on a nice day.
Anyway, there were at least two festivals to choose from: Westfest and the Italian Festival. I’m going to Westfest on Sunday, early in the afternoon, because Andrea Simms-Karp – singer, songwriter, banjo player, guitar player, blogger – is performing at 12:45 AND she’s going to have her incredibly cute bulldog puppy, Mordechai, with her. Can’t miss that.
So I went to the Italian Festival instead. Somehow I managed to forget that I don’t actually like the Italian Festival all that much. It’s probably better if you go with other people, or if you feel like eating or drinking. If you’re not socializing, eating or drinking, there’s not that much to do. Except look at cars. Ferraris. Red Ferraris.
Is it just me, or do they all look the same to everybody else too? I was wondering what the point was to having a Ferrari festival, because if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all.
Then I started thinking about the only person I ever knew who had a Ferrari. We’ll call him Dan. He got rich off the stock market in the 90s, and lived up around Georgian Bay. He had a neighbour we’ll call Dwight, who I suspect was rich off some combination of the construction business and organized crime. Dan was friends with an old boyfriend of mine, which is how I knew them.
Anyway. Dwight had a motorcycle and suggested to Dan that they take a road trip to Ottawa to visit us. Dan thought that was a fine idea, so he went down to the local Harley dealership and ordered their most expensive bike, fully loaded with all the options, plus all the gear to go with it – Harley boots, helmet, chaps, jacket, the whole nine yards. This was Dan’s typical shopping style – walk into the most prestigious store and demand the most expensive product.
So a few weeks later the bike was ready and Dan picked it up. He and Dwight booked rooms at the Chateau Laurier, hopped on their Harleys and headed to Ottawa.
We met them at the Lafayette Hotel in the market, which they didn’t really like, so we only stayed for one beer there. We asked how their trip was. Unfortunately Dan had discovered he didn’t really like driving a motorcycle. It wasn’t as much fun as he thought it might be. It wasn’t as comfortable as a car. It didn’t feel all that safe. He didn’t think he’d be driving it anymore after the weekend. (Which meant, of course, that his transportation for the weekend cost him over $50,000.)
Then we went to a wine bar where Dan and Dwight talked incessantly about how much things cost.
“I paid $600 for a bottle of wine last week,” said Dan.
“That’s nothing,” said Dwight, “I paid $4800 for six bottles.”
Dan paid $90 for a pair of socks. Dwight paid $30,000 for giant landscaping boulders for his front yard. Dan paid $14,000 for his refrigerator. Dwight paid $250,000 for cancer treatments for his wife in the US because Canada was too stupid to let rich people jump to the front of the line. On and on and on.
Then Dwight took his watch off, slid it across the table to me and said “How much you think that cost?”
I picked it up, looked it over, slid it back and said “Two hundred bucks.”
“Twelve grand,” he declared triumphantly.
It was at this point that I pulled the piece of paper out of my back pocket, and unfolded it. “I’m participating in a canoe race next weekend. It’s a fundraiser for Christie Lake Camp, which is a camp for kids in poverty. Would either of you like to sponsor me?” I asked sweetly as I slid my pledge form across the table to them.
They both looked uncomfortable, as if I’d done something unspeakably rude.
Finally Dwight said he didn’t carry any cash, but if Dan wanted to cover him for now, I could put him down for $5. Dan put himself down for $20, while lamely bringing up the subject that he sponsors twelve kids through World Vision. I asked him questions about them, but he admitted that his wife took care of all that and he really didn’t know what countries they were in or anything.
Then they kind of stopped talking about money for awhile. Instead, Dwight went on and on about his tacky Hedonism swinger vacations.
So. What does any of this have to do with the Italian Festival? Practically nothing, except Dan bought a Ferrari not long after that. I was looking at all the Ferraris tonight and thinking they were all pretty much identical and wondering if their owners were all the same as Dan.
Anyway, the Italian Festival didn’t really do much for me. I did like seeing all the Pub Italia vehicles – they’ve got a wonderful crazy little collection of antique Italian vehicles. I’ll post pictures another time.
On the way home I came across lots of baby rabbits and I just wanted to pick them up and kiss them because I love bunnies. That was the highlight of my trip to the Italian Festival.
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Did you say bunnies…?
Coyote, I did say bunnies – don’t tell me you love bunnies too?!
Who doesn’t love bunnies? Other than communists. Communists hate bunnies.
That was the most satisfying story to read. Take that, Dan and Dwight! Maybe if they could somehow wear a starving orphan or disadvantaged child as a status symbol, or have them sit and look hungry on the $14,000 landscaping boulders…
Yes, Zoom. And Gabriel. I am not a communist coyote. I love bunnies. They’re just so darned tasty!
I’m still shaking my head at the pledge form. Gag me with a spoon.
Yeah! Morty can’t wait to meet you!
I know people like that. They will contribute millions of dollars to the arts, to culture, and to places and organizations where their name will figure prominently, but they would never think of sponsoring someone for a good cause or of handing a dollar to a beggar on the street. They think homeless people are an eyesore and shudder at the idea of visiting poor countries. Poverty appalls them, but not in a good way. In a way where all poor people should be removed to some other place where nobody will see them, not in a way where they are part of the solution and they could help maybe not eliminate, but at least reduce poverty.
They are establishment — they are the chosen ones. And they secretly feel that poor people are where they are because it’s their own fault. Sad.
Manon, I know exactly what you mean. Some people find poverty distasteful from an aesthetic point of view. It’s a bizarre phenomenon.
Coyote, may I suggest deferring your gratification until the baby bunnies get old? They’ll be so much bigger then.
I would have loved to see their faces. Good on you for doing that. I’m frankly not sure I could have stayed at the table with either of them after that.
Courageous! People like D&D generally eat people like me for breakfast. I know someone like that who not only flaunts his possessions but treats people “below” him like crap. Because he is part of my extended family, we once had a group dinner at a restaurant and I slunk under the table while he chewed out our server for not bringing something quickly enough. I challenged him after and he barked at me saying that’s what she gets paid for! Then again, I know wealthy folk who are very compassionate and benevolent and don’t flaunt there stuff.
Melinda, in some situations I just become an observer – it makes it more bearable. (Being a blogger helps too, although this situation took place years before I started blogging.)
Skylark, I agree – I’ve met wealthy people who aren’t tacky and crass about it, and I’ve probably met wealthy people who were so down to earth that I didn’t even realize they were wealthy. D&D couldn’t seem to forget – or let anyone else forget – for even five minutes that they were wealthy.
Nice article to read.
Just surfing and ran across your story, I thought I would take a moment to answer your question.
Why have a Ferrari Festival?
We raise money for charity. In the past 4 years we have raised $54,000 for Villa Marconi. It is a long term health care facilty which was built by the Italian community. So, now you know why we have the FCA Ottawa Ferrari Festival.
It’s a nice way to give back to the community. Not all Ferrari’s are alike and not all Ferrari owners are like your 2 friends.