Richmond is a city of excessive randomness. A couple nights ago I was over at the boys' apartment, engaging in a grading/video game combo marathon, when my mother called. I stepped outside onto the balcony to talk to her, and noticed that the downstairs neighbors were having a party in the parking lot. I paid little attention, passively noticing the tiki torches, solo cups, dance music, and clusters of people chatting and laughing. I was unclear as to the purpose of the fire extinguisher and white plastic buckets in the parking lot, but I failed to creatively ponder the presence of these items. As I related various bits of moving drama to my mother, one of the girls in the party picked up two long metals with black balls on the end, and proceeded to submerge the black balls in the white plastic bucket. Although I considered this unusual, she did not fully capture my attention until she carried the two chains over to the tiki torches and lit them on fire.
Equipped with two flaming chains, she walked towards the middle of the parking lot and began swinging them into circles. As the chains gained momentum, her circles became more elaborate, and she began dancing, swinging these fireballs like they were gymnastic ribbons, making twirling S's in the air, creating a glowing field around her body as she danced.
It was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.
I explained to my mother why I had to go, and proceeded to be captivated by the fire-dance. She had to be a professional fire twirler dancing person--she was just too awesome. And apparently she was, because when she was finished, she asked some dude if he was ready to give it a try. He said he was, and bravely lit some chains on fire, and began making clumsy circles with them. He hit himself in the leg, recovered, hit himself in the chest (which was a little more serious) recovered again, and then made some pretty elaborate twirls. He retired to some scattered applause.
Then the Queen of Fire did an encore with a fellow who was apparently ALSO a professional fire twirling person! They did synchronized choreography with their gouts of flame on chains, making cocentric circles and swirls . . . it was astonishing.
And all of this happened in a bloody Fan parking lot, secluded in an alley. In a corner, near one of the buildings, some girl stood on a trash can and starting singing in what sounded like French (with gestures and everything). In the center, people learned how to twirl fire. And I could have walked downstairs, and said, "I want to learn fire dancing. Please teach me." And they would have taught me, if I had asked.
