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EDINBURGH: CITY OF FESTIVALS
MICHAEL BLAHA
Excerpt from “The Edinburgh Fringe Festival:”
I’m walking east down the Royal Mile towards my favorite Indian restaurant off South Bridge, Mother India, when I am accosted by a very large hairy man in a pink tutu, who thrusts a glossy flyer into my hands without a word before moving on, a mute ballerina gliding through the afternoon throng. Before I can react, the third Harry Potter I have seen in the last ten minutes repeats the proffer, followed in quick succession by Frank Sinatra, Marilyn Monroe, and a giant… bear? Only the putative mammal speaks – in what sounds like a Russian accent – “Come see my show, da?”
No, I’m not hallucinating on the excellent single malt whiskeys I sampled earlier that day. There is a much simpler explanation: it is August, which means the Edinburgh Festival Fringe is in full swing.