I’m in Burlington, Vermont. Just arrived, right. I’m on a family road trip. Wanted to take a pic of the sunset over beautiful Lake Champlain. It’s Sunday night, remind you. I hear club music in the direction of the dock I want to take a picture from. I have a whiskey drink in hand. So hell, I head over.
I walk through the party. Drunk vagabonds, drugged out hipsters and bathless bohemians everywhere. Music poppin’, madness all over, folks dancin’ looking at me with nervous eyes. I’m the guy with the camera. I finally walk out on the dock and take my shots.
Someone taps me on the shoulder. Skinny guy, red hair in a ponytail, green shirt that read ‘Keep Vermont Weird.’ He looks me in the eye and asks, “do you mind if I breathe fire?” A little baffled by the question, I said “no problem” thinking he was about to fire up a fatty.
Nope. He took a long a pull from what looked to be a champaign bottle, lit a business card and spit fire just like he said. Damn, Vermont is weird. And I love it.