A number of years ago, a group of friends and I headed out to a Harvest ritual put on by the same coven which hosts the Victorian Tea. It had been pouring rain all day and with the fallen leaves clogging the sewer drains some of the streets had deep puddles in places. Our daring (and not very bright) driver decided that, instead of finding an alternate route, he was going to plow through a road-spanning puddle of unknown depth at full speed.
As I’m sure you’ve all already guessed, we got halfway through the puddle when the minivan stalled. Thankfully, we had just left our meeting place, so it was decided we’d simply walk back there and take somebody else’s vehicle. Now picture this – half a dozen people all dressed up in their ritual finery trying to clamber out of a minivan that’s sitting in the middle of a puddle that is so deep the water is almost coming into the seating area. It wasn’t fun, let me tell you.
We change vehicles (and drivers) and head back on our merry (if fairly damp and kind of cranky) way. The entire way up we were forced to listen to our previous driver whine and complain about how wet his shoes were. By the time we reached The Farm we were all dryer, but quite a bit more cranky.
The Farm was muddy and wet, but the company was excellent and the food was, as always, excellent so we didn’t mind so much. Then, the ritual started and we were faced with this giant snake made from hay bales. A snake we were meant to lift above our heads and undulate as if it were a real snake. A hay bale snake that had gotten rained on and was sopping wet. So, here we are waving this giant, wet snake around in the air and getting dripped on by it and having bits of wet, itchy hay fall into our hair and faces. It was… not fun.
At the end of the night, our erstwhile driver summed everything up perfectly by uttering these words: “Stupid rain, stupid shoes, stupid snake.”