I don't think I've laughed so wholesomely or heartily in quite awhile. Last night, with little expectation, a bit of adventure and some mapquest directions, a friend and I set out to find a silent film festival, located at a historical park that was advertised online. I wasn't sure how popular such event would be on a cold night and almost didn't want to go for fear of being the only one to show up.
We showed up late, but were animatedly welcomed into the warm lodge-like room. The blue glow of the screen and the perky piano music let us know we were in the right place. The evening's impresario joyfully invited us to have a seat among the twenty or so others in attendance. The festive spirit of the room seeped into my bones and melted away any insecurities I had about attending the festival in the first place.
The audience, including myself, was uninhibited and liberal with laughter. Everything from a simple chortle while watching proper women with big floppy hats run and fall into mud puddles, to outright guffaws at Laurel and Hardy plots. If I wasn't chuckling, I was certainly smiling the entire time.
Children bounced around, snarfed complementary popcorn, drank hot chocolate. The entire atmosphere was one of sheer enjoyment. There were very few words that got in the way of the experience, the only sounds heard were gleeful children, an occasional spontaneous audience narration or observation- and that perky piano music plunking in the background. It is amazing how much fun one can have even when very few words are spoken.
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