he party hall is almost ready now, chairs, banners, balloons and an explosion of every single colour of the rainbow. To the far right is the popular pin the donkey and to the left a table, stocked with every child’s dream a mountain of cupcakes and a sea of every candy available in the local retail store. Next to the entrance sits a bare and eager table designated for gifts, the only one excited for the horror to come. With the squeak of the last balloon being twisted into shape, the hall is ready, it is the last moment of silence, the queen of this land before she surrenders her throne to the phantom of the children’s army.

 And with that a melting pot of asynchronous florescent footsteps burst through the the entrance of the hall, may the queen of silence rest in peace. Among the chaos a grown man, possibly the party organizer, sinks in a sea of hyperactive 3 year olds, desperately trying to create a method to this madness. As if the cacophony weren’t enough the overhead speakers begin to blast with the oh so familiar notes of the “Wheels of the Bus” melody partaking in a growing mess of discord.

The once proud mountain of evenly stacked cupcakes is now a cascading landslide. Stubby uncoordinated hands grab and snatch for the brightest cupcakes complacent to the structure crumbling down. Within moments the floor is covered in grease and frosting, one must be careful to not stand in one place for long for their shoe might get stuck. The only thing that seems to be building up is the pile of gifts. Sheets of dinosaurs greet those of princesses and the striped and the polka dotted ones beam at the top of the hill and Loosely tied bows and ribbons intertwine through the lot. 

I carefully maneuver my way through a maze of chatty mothers gushing about their child’s latest achievement and a pair of judgy eyes from the only teenager here and wind my way up to the cupcakes. Eyes shut I throw my hand into the fire pit/wresting pit hoping to score and after the 2 most traumatizing minutes of my hands I land up with a cupcake. The base of the cake is lost under the gargantuan heap of frosting, the only rainbow that hurts my eyes. I bite into it, my teeth sink into the velvety texture of the cake, 2 seconds of bliss before the sugar takes my taste buds on a dreadful roller coaster. The sugar migrates across my tongue causing it to twitch and turn in agony. 

However, when one observes carefully, there lies an orchestra among the turbulence, an orchestra of exuberant children, music that transports you straight to your crib and happiness beyond belief.

melting pot of people burst through the immense gates and a series of asynchronous footsteps twirl skyward through the mahogany stairwells. The towering luminescent bulbs look over us and beam as a slight breeze nods in our direction and the sun waves goodbye. Further downward 70 yards of thick spring grass are barbered to perfection silently awaiting the magic. Ten minutes till the big game.

Soon the heat begins to licks our faces and coils around our bodies like a serpent on its hunt. Sly drops of sweat tumble down hundreds of faces and peel through layers of roughly applied paint. Across me a sea of bodies adorned in red and green synthetics mill about the benches, moving back and forth like waves brushing across ashore. A string of scarlet hats stamped with the very celebrated crest are dotted in heaps all across the stadium. 5 minutes till the big game

I turn to the right, beside me is a young girl, decked in an oversized sea-green jersey and shorts, the kind that stretch like a rubber band. She ploughs through a perfectly innocent bag of potato crisps feeling no need for manner or remorse. She then moves on to lick her fleshy lips and turns her attention to inhaling anything remotely sweet insight. To my left, seated beside me is a man adorning powdered white hair and a matching goatee. A time chisselled face decorated by his blood-flecked eyes that bear the scars of a long-lived life. He sits patiently and calmly wearing an angelic smile, observing the commotion around him. A ferocious grunt beckons my attention to the other end of the stadium. It is all a blur, a furious collision between the rouge and the emerald seem to have the crowd in a fluster. An army of men in black soon arrive to dissolve the mess. 1 minute till the big game.

 A large siren echo’s through the stadium, followed by hoots and trumpets beckoning the game to begin.