Ward on the Street: Summer bummer

"You party with tiny people, it's bound to happen."

A man named Noah shrugs as a 5-foot-tall girl in a bikini wretches up a puddle of lunch and malt liquor a few steps away. Other people's regurgitations are always a buzz kill, but factor in that it's in broad daylight and only 4 p.m., and what you get is a chain reaction.

A moment later, as the girl continues to heave, her friend—also tiny, also in a bikini—staggers over to a trash can and begins her own process of alcoholic detox. I'm at the first Little Radio Summer Camp event of the season, and people are vomiting on all sides of me.

The parking lot is carpeted with Astroturf, an inflatable water slide holds court at the entrance, and the Downtown warehouse/Internet station/music venue is abuzz with all-you-can drink Colt 45. Just as Crystal Antlers begin to play a raucous set inside, I see a shirtless guy near the pool with a pained expression, drooling into a garbage can. It's not pretty.

(Beware the Colt)

When it comes to daytime drinking, I'm all for the occasional wine spritzer on a patio, but slamming Colt for six hours while playing badminton is probably a bad idea. Despite any similarities to an infirmary, it's still a saucy good time, and at dusk I finally pull myself away to head over to Atwater Village for another party—also called Summer Camp. There's a craft table at this one, plus a camp-themed art show and adults dressed as Boy Scouts. But no Colt 45. 

Summer Camp #2: slightly less drunk/more happy campers?

The moral, as always: check thineself before thou dost wreck thineself.