foam party - overflow magazine, fall 2011

8/3/2019 Foam Party - Overflow Magazine, Fall 2011

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Bruce Lindsay pushes a grocery cart up Vanderbilt Avenue on a sweaty Saturdaymorning in Prospect Heights. Inside his cart

are a sword, a sta, a bow, a few arrows, a shield, andsome other weapons. Attached on the outside of thecart is a small white sign that reads, Wanna Fight?Come Ask! Lindsay scurries up the hill towardGrand Army Plaza. As he reaches Flatbush Avenue,he waits for an opening in the trac. He lookstoward the Soldiers and Sailors Arch that sits acrossthe northern entrance to Prospect Park. On the old,

triumphal arch is a sculptors allegory with bronzed, winged goddesses, Union soldiers, and the storyof a civil war won. Lindsay crosses the street andanxiously waits for the soldiers of his own civil war.He is a little out of breath from the walk. Doesntlook like anyones here yet, he says.

Once or twice a month Lindsay and his minions,who come from all ve boroughs and beyond, stridethrough Grand Army Plaza and into the rollingrefuge of Prospect Park. Its here where they line upand battle each other, where they escape the perils ofadolescence, unemployment, overemployment, andthe unforgiving world outside the one they create. In

Prospect Park these quirky combatants discover theelusive balance of the Dionysian and Apollonianasavory equilibrium of chaos and order.

Picture Braveheart on Nerf pills. Picture a foamFight Club.

Beneath the welcomed shade of the Arch, Lindsaypulls a blue bottle of Coppertone sun block from hiscart. He begins to liberally apply it to his face. Hehas trouble getting it past his goatee. Lindsay, 38, islanky and about six-foot-one. His face has a sharp,villainous shape. A disheveled salt and pepper hair-do curls freely down to his ears and his matching

sideburns point to his mouth across his cheeks.His look is calculated. It will soon compliment hiswhite, plated body armor, red tunic, and cape thathell wear in battle. At that time Lindsay will becomeBrutus, taking his arsenal of swords, stas, and bowsinto the park. And to think, just two days beforewhen we rst sat down to meethe was sizing up afetching young maiden at the trendy diner near hishouse. Youd imagine some of these players pickingup chicks somewhere between the mall and themessage board. But Lindsay maintains a surprisingsuave.

Cheddar or Gruyere? the waitress wanted to know.

Cheddar, Lindsay told her with elegant denition

as he raised his chin and goatee a bit. en we gotto talking. I quickly learned that Lindsay isnt what youd expect from the leader of a live action roleplaying realm. He skirts around the stereotypes bornin your local moms basement. Sure, hes battled for26 years and shows no signs of stopping. But thenhes also in a happy, open relationship with a lass whocounsels couples on intimacy. In real life, he buildsscale models for a design rm in Brooklyn and seemsto have carved out a pretty decent existence forhimself. He moved to Brooklyn six years ago, and

now lives across the street from e Vanderbilt inProspect Heights, where we met up.

Wearing a snug black t-shirt, he seemed at easewith the menu in his hand. At one point, he even winked at the waitress. He wondered if she wasIsraeli, but couldnt pin down her accent. Shit, Ithought. Lindsay is the rare condent nerd even withhis nervous machine-gun laugh. Eventually, I was ableto formulate the question to get at this. So what isDagorhir? And why does the seemingly normal BruceLindsay create such a paradox for being a part of it?Lindsay doesnt bat an eye. Its the only time youllsee a teen punk-rock kid battling a 40-year-old

lawyer.

Founded in the late 1970s by a dude in Maryland,the name Dagorhir is derived from TolkiensSindarin Elven language, and translates as BattleLords, according to the games ocial website.Pronounced DAGGER-HERE it is a live actioncombat sport where people ght each other with fake, foam weaponry. Each player assumesa persona that they choose, with medieval andfantasy derived themes oen assisting their must-have monikers. Typically, two teams dressed inclassic garb (not necessarily of any particular era,but simply in line with ancient ghters and fantasy

novels, and preferably void of any brand or logo)go head-to-head with their fake weapons slashing,stabbing, and shooting each other until one is lestanding. Depending on where youre hit and withwhat weapon, you act accordingly using the honorsystem and the opinion of your peers. (Oenghters are seen with an arm behind their back orhopping on one leg fake wounded.) Match-ups alsoinclude capture the ag type scenarios, battles thatinvolve bridgesoen just rope laid on grassandweapon-specic matches.

Lindsay goes on: I started the group in Brooklyn ayear aer I moved here, about ve years ago, because

I missed playing. I put up a website that was linkto Dagorhirs website and let people nd me.

Before anyone else nds him at the arch, Lindsbegins nervously pulling weapons from his arsenand putting them back into the cart. Finally, JusCohen, or Gauntlets, arrives clad in a pair snakeskin pants and a chain wallet. He is noticeabupset. Justins had a rough week so far, he says. Gproblems. She used to text me ten times a day, utters shyly. While he and Gauntlets are nothi

more than battle buddies Lindsay listens intenand oers advice. In a few hours, Lindsays advwill prove extraneous, forgotten by the thrill of tensuing battle.

More and more men begin to arrive over the ne30 minutes. Lindsay diligently begins to inspenew weapons as people chat and laugh in a coupof dierent circles. Anyone see Harry Pottermidnight? someone asks. He gets a mixed responAn elderly couple walks by just as John Mack, Oswalt-Oswalt, shows up, and they look on wienjoyment. Oswalt-Oswalt wears a black toga wa red sash and headband. A few people quickly gre

him, some of whom are wearing simply shorts ainside out t-shirts. Other men have adorned tuniheavy chainmail armor, and fur leg casings in toFieen minutes pass and Lindsay is now inspectiweapons.

e Dagorhir Manual of Arms lists ve typesweapons for battle, each divided by a specic coley range from crossbows to daggers to axes aeven fake rocks you simply throw at one anothEach weapon is subject to the moderators inspectibefore a battle. In Brooklyn, thats Lindsay. erereason for that, he explains. Once I was holdinspear and I went to block a swing and it was jus

horrible misalignment of the [insuciently paddepart of [my opponents] axe and the worst partmy thumb. His thumb bent and broke. I dont anything slide now, he says.

Lindsay begins scouring over one players sword froend to end. While holding the sword he asks the kto turn around so he can test his weapon on hiLindsay wails on the kids back seemingly intent proving its unsafe. You can see the pain in the kiface as Lindsay whacks him full force with the PVand foam sword three times. Shit, we havent evstarted yet, the kid says. Today, his weapon does pass Lindsays safety inspection. Its too hard, n

enough foam. Another players new spear is deem


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too exible as it goes past a 90-degree angle whenLindsay applies pressure.

A few soldiers begin to stretch and one new membersigns a safety waiver for Lindsay. ey begin togather their weapons and armor. Lindsay puts hiscart in motion and people start following himtoward the park. eir walk is more unassumingthan youd think. ey arent shing for attentionas they stroll through the Saturday Farmers Marketin Grand Army Plaza. But their outts and weaponscertainly draw some looks.

e farmers market itself is a faint homage toolder medieval times, save for the 300 yupsters

and a missing piccolo. For a moment the troupe ofwarriors t in. Another elderly couple stops in itstracks, shiing their attention from the artisanalAsiago in front of them, marveling at the condentbattalion yielding their artisanal arsenal. A ParkSlope couple with a small dog in a due bag isexcessively debating bok choy prices. ese mendont have these problems.

e marching men belong to Novi Antiqui, NewYorks own chapter of Dagorhir. One of the marchingmen is Joel Gabriel, who goes by Wolaus. He is a

well-built, dark-skinned 20-something who hasmade the trip out from Long Island today to play.Hes tired but is still stretching with purpose. Heeven jumps a little to warm up. Aer a three hundredyard walk southeast across the main lawn, Lindsaypicks a spot in the shade of an oak tree near a waterfountain.ey begin to gear up.

As one-on-one warm-ups quickly sprout up aroundthe tree, Gauntlets remains under it. He is shirtlessnow, exposing the tribal tattoos that paint his hips.He is playing with sticks in the dirt and is still visiblyupset about his love life. e last thing she said tome was I miss you sweetie I miss you sweetie? He

doesnt look up. I cant

ght when I m heartbroken,I just cant. He says he asked his friend whos a social

worker tond him a therapist. Gauntlets worksin the permit room in the DMV, adding him onlyadditional stress and you get the feeling his miserywill be translated into someones misfortune soon.Im trying to move out of the permits room, itsjust too much, he says. But its not. Hell soon quellhis personal strife and don his snakeskin wrist andshoulder armor with a scary, matching mask.

Wolaus had been at the movie theater where heworks until 3a.m. that morning. Im exhausted, hesays dramatically. It cant help that hes wearing anall-black karate gee and kneepads in the hot summer

sun. But Wolaus remains true to his battle persona,a warrior oen yielding a bow and arrow crouchingcautiously in back of his teammates. Oswalt-Oswalt,meanwhile, is stretching his arms like a relief pitcherin the bullpen. Another ghter, Sporq has all butsharpened his sword is ready to go at some people.Lindsay slips some spandex shorts up his tunic andis now in full armor. eyve waited two weeks tobe in Prospect Park again and there is now livelinessin everyones step. All are standing now like team inthe locker room ready to take the eld before the biggame.

Lindsay is now Brutus and gets ready to assume

power and enhance his already condent existence.But for men like Wolaus and Gauntlets, its asuspension of their real life existence, not a vehicle toenhance it. Its wishing they could swipe a sword orshoot an arrow at every person in line at the movietheater or the DMVs permit room. Its getting aninnocent taste of the primordial desire that existswithin all of us.

is is the fantastic feeling that Dagorhir produceson the eld. People fake slicing each others neckswith swords, and stabbing one another in the backwith axes is a quick breach in reality. Its a safe test ofwhat it would be like if they only could. Pedestrians

look on with a curious jealousy. Many peoplestop and ask what theyre doing. What if pent up

Brooklynites all had such a healthy release? I wondWould they still argue over bok choy? What if thall could be so uninhibited and just let their shiedown for once?

What if the worldwas like this? What if they fougwith foam weapons in Iraq and Afganistan? Whif world wars were fought with guns made from tshapes of our hands and the sound eects of omouths? What if Eric Harris and Dylan Klieboldwho committed the massacre at Columbine HSchoolhad Nerf guns instead of TEC-9s? world would be that much sillier, that much pur

that much simpler. e members of Novi Antiqhave championed a new form of aggressioRedening civil war. Having found a way to gharmoniously and harmlessly. Perhaps maysomeday these foam warriors will be championlike our modern war heroes. Maybe someday theyget their own statues in Grand Army Plaza. Probabnot, but theyll keep ghting in the mean timabiding by their leader, while DMV lines queup and sweethearts break sweet hearts. e wowill continue to spin chaotically out of control atheyll just keep moving on. Getting by, living escape the real world battle, in a battle all their ow

If you wanna ght, join the herd and Ill make somteams! Brutus says with a nasal authority.e teaare quickly set and Brutus poignantly declares thino shields match. Wolaus draws his bow in tback of his team of ten or so. Sporq bends his knewith his sword in hand. Another man holds a specocked back as Brutus begins to count down. 5A cop pulls up and looks on grinning. 4 A kies above them cutting through the anticipationthe air 3... A man selling shaved ice stops ringihis bell and watches 2 a woman stops her stroland cracks a smile. Brutus yells more loudly 1 Pon!

And suddenly, all is fair in Prospect Park.

foam party - overflow magazine, fall 2011

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