So last night with the sun shining and the town full of families in search of icecream I decided to head down to the final night of the Ann Arbor SummerFestival.
It was packed with people - and what was most apparent to me was the lack of self consciousness amongst them.
By the gate groups of teenage girls hung out, cell phones in hand, braces gleaming in the late afternoon sun, Hollister shorts just too short and tops revealing just too much muffin action. They threw their heads back and laughed with ease, while scanning the horizon for the football players with whom they had innocently fumbled.
Inside bikers mingled with professors (they had beards in common I guess) as dads hoisted screaming toddlers onto their shoulders and moms danced hand in hand with kids alive to the energy of the evening.
The first music and everyone was up. On their feet. Grandma was twirling, grandson was bouncing, too many people seemed to be on the verge of seizure but nobody - and I mean nobody was mortified.
Other than me. British-New Yorker that I feel I am. Who stood rooted, horrified and awed by the sheer mid-westerness of it all. The perfect town enjoying the perfect evening. Pretty cool
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