Foam Glow Run

[Martin Hash]

Gwynne in Foam 2.jpg

When CSI was popular on TV, there was an episode that involved a foam party; basically a rave-kitchen sink combination that looked fun; I always loved playing in the bubbles in my bathtub as a kid. Decades later, my wife, Gwynne, asked if I wanted to go on a foam run.
“Is there foam?” I asked.
Gwynne looked at me quizzically.
“Do we get to play in the foam?” I continued.
“We'll have to go and find out,” she replied.
So we did. It wasn't just foam, it was glowing foam; it was the Foam Glow run.

I must confess that back-in-the-day when my company made customized “H*A*S*H” temporary tattoos, I never wore one, and I’ve always intended to make up for lost opportunities, so when I found a tattoo in my Foam Glow race packet, I glued that baby on my arm as soon as humanly possible; now I was a unique creative individual too, proven by wearing the same tattoo as 20,000 other Foam-Glowers; and, of course, it glowed in the dark. Some people had their tattoo on their face; I put mine on the inside of my arm so mostly it was invisible but if I wanted to impress some passerby with my originality, all I had to do was pretended to stretch, as if screaming “see this big boy.” While I was doing that some kid pushed me out of the way.
“Hey, you’re blocking the foam,” he complained.

Martin in Foam.jpg

At night, in foam, with overhead black lights along the trail, it was eerie.
“You have pink hair,” I laughed at Gwynne.
She looked at me speculatively, “you have a pink hat.”
My white hat, already sporting a rainbow band, became fully LGBTQ when the foam turned it pink. In fact, the very next day in Portland, OR, a cute gal said she liked my hat and some guy hit on me.

Foam Stained Hat.jpg

p.s. 2 weeks later, there I was cruising around the Mediterranean sporting my Foam Glow tattoo.