Susan Luzzaro 9:45 p.m., June 18
The two organizers of the Redheaded Party had planned the event for a month – fliers were designed, produced, and distributed in hot spots around town. It was posted on Craigslist, made into a Facebook Event, and even featured on the Your Week page. Everybody I spoke to said it sounded cool. Even the organizers, Brittany Anderson and Kristin Rice, heard nothing but positive feedback when telling people of the plans for their first official celebration of gingers.
Rice had participated in Redhead Bike Rides in another city, and thought she’d bring ginger appreciation to San Diego. The rules were simple: Be a redhead, or wear a red wig. Activities planned included sloshball, three-legged races, and a pie-eating contest. The organizers were there early to prepare. They bought a red cake, on which “Welcome to the Readheaded Party” (sick) was written in white frosting. They didn’t notice the typo until they arrived at Mt. Acadia Park in Clairemont, the location of the redfest.
They had two kegs, piñatas, candy, a cooler filled with bottles of Bud, and all the materials needed for the games. But, though the event was scheduled to begin at 1:30, when I arrived at 2 p.m. with my token redheaded friend Jen (one of my four tangerine-tinted friends), the only people at the park were Rice and Anderson, the latter of whom was wearing a cherry-red wig.
They offered us a beer, and together we all commiserated at the sad lack of redheaded interest in San Diego. But then, a man arrived. He was a brunette, but he’d come prepared, with a can of red hairspray. Rice did the honors.
Shortly after that, a car pulled up with four enthusiastic redheaded party people. One guy was a natural, two girls wore orange-red wigs, and another dude had a fake ZZ Top-like, long red beard.
We left the small crew to their sloshball, cake, and piñatas. I plan to follow up on the flip side and find out if any more red heads showed up for the revelry, or if San Diego just isn’t ready for the red.