A day at the park

Winter will soon be upon us. And by winter in Southern California, I mean the mercury might plunge into the 50's. And, if we get an unexpected Arctic Blast, it might even dive into the fatal 40's.

With those kind of life threatening conditions, it's only natural that outdoor activities come to a sudden halt. Particularly in Carlson Park (pictured above), just down the street from my house.

Some, I'll miss.

Like the weekly appearance of the Cirque de Soleil Training group. Every Saturday, the corner nearest my house would be populated by jugglers, flame dancers, tightrope walkers, and gymnasts schooled in the art of Contortionism. Even more fascinating is that the troupe of aspiring circus folk were more than likely lithe, young women in their 20's who would wear very little clothing. Mostly in the form of form-fitting lycra.

ME: "I'm going to walk the dog."

WIFE: "You just walked the dog twenty minutes ago."

Others, I won't miss so much.

Like the 75-strong drum circle.

Or the Carlson Park Summer Theater Company. We used to take our daughters to watch them when the girls were quite young, but the experience never quite lived up to the billing. Half the time a dog was barking. And the other half the time one of the neighbor's car alarms was going off.

No disrespect to the Carlson Park Players, but what you're doing isn't really acting. It's putting on a costume and makeup and shouting really loud. And for the most part, not loud enough.

That leaves the park to the one group who show up religiously, rain or shine. Who are we kidding it never rains here. I'm referring of course to the knife fighters.

They are the smallest, but perhaps most devoted, of the groups who turn our little park into their personal playground. There are usually 6-8 of them. Two, from what I can gather, are the teachers, or sensei. While the remaining 6 pay good money (I assume) so that they too may be learned in the way of the knife.

They thrust.

They parry.

They swing elbows and knees and sawed off broomsticks to defend themselves against the plastic retractable blade.

This goes on for HOURS.

Stick.

Jab.

Deflect.

I am in awe of the dedication.

But more often than not I walk away from my impromptu study of their antics and think that unless I'm missing something on the local news, the odds of putting those well hewn skills to work and fending off an actual knife attack have to be in the zillions.

I went to The Google and discovered that as a somewhat girthy 44 year old man, I have a better chance of landing the lead role in Cirque de Soleil's upcoming ode to Hercules.