Events these days are planned on a larger-than-life scale. Nothing is better at making a spectacle bigger than its previous production. Every four years the hosting country tries to out-perform the opening ceremonies of past Olympic games. Everyone does something to be remembered by, whether it is more ostentatious costumes or extravagant fireworks. Bigger is better. Or is it?

Each August long weekend in the town where I grew up, Morrisburg, Ontario, Canada, people flock to participate in a local festival. It's called Tubie Weekend and is quite legendary in its own right: truly a gem among small town festivals. For over 25 years now, people have made this small town event into a big party.

It's not Caribana in Toronto and it's certainly not Oktoberfest in Munich, but it does bring the town together. And rumour has it that in this one weekend the town's population nearly doubles, which is quite a feat for a town of only 2,300. Tubie Weekend is priceless in its originality and unique in its creativity. To my knowledge there is no other Tubie Weekend anywhere else in the world, and really, why would there be.

Tubie Weekend started with two men who thought it would be great fun to paddle an inner tube down the St. Lawrence River. According to legend these men were under the influence of Labatt's beer. There was no better way to celebrate this brilliant idea than to create a weekend party around it. Smart boys, they were. The town, not one to fool with tradition, has kept Labatt's a part of the festivities.

The weekend kicks off Saturday with the Tubie parade that weaves its way through town and ends up at the 'downtown' strip mall. Each team of Tubie racers decorates a float according to the theme of the year. This year's theme was "dare tubie different." My favorite was the "Proud tubie gay" float with the slogan "whatever floats your boat." Needless to say the parade officiators were not ready for such, shall we call it, flamboyance. I don't know of any other parade where the participants get off their floats and have a chat with the locals, or where you see a friend on a float and decide to join in the fun. And where else would you see a Buzz Lightyear costume made with a mother's care, Magic Marker, and a cardboard box on a proud 25-year-old man?

No small town fest is without a dance and Tubie Weekend is no different. Each year the locals shake their heads in astonishment at the number of strangers who fill the Morrisburg arena to dance and listen to a rock 'n roll band that plays classics like "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Footloose." It's probably the only time of year residents are outnumbered by outsiders, which is a rarity in a place where everyone knows everyone and their business.

The beer is $2.50 and liquor is $3.50—quite a deal. The party rocks hard all night long. When the band takes a break the DJ plays The Tragically Hip to please the drunk Canadians who think The Hip is the most highly-underrated band ever. "The Tragically Hip rules, man!" can be heard above the muffled bass beat. It's not long before some drunken fellow gets on stage, grabs the microphone and sings Karaoke to "Ahead by a Century." Good times with good people—it really can't get any better than that.

Racers sober up and get ready to paddle down the river Sunday afternoon. Their rafts, the likes of which would be seen on TLC's Junkyard Wars, head for the start line. The race begins at the sound of the fire truck siren. For 4 km the coastline is lined with cheering fans. Boats fill the water honking horns to show support for the increasingly fatigued paddlers.

The finish line is the local beach, where what seems like hundreds await to see the winning tubie cross the finish line. Every year the same team wins, and there you have it, the climax of the weekend. That's it.

The crowd waits to give support for the losing teams lagging far behind. People don't race to win—the pot of $300 isn't exactly a jackpot, but it is enough to pay for tubie expenses and a case or two of beer. On second thought, perhaps people do race to win. It's easy to see that the weekend is not about the race, but about something else: a gathering of people who accept any excuse to party.

Year after year people come to Morrisburg to witness this spectacle, to share in the awesome festivities and to act like complete fools in a perfectly acceptable and inviting atmosphere. In my opinion bigger doesn't always imply better. Who needs the Love Parade in Berlin or Mardi Gras in New Orleans, when there's Tubie Weekend in Morrisburg? For those of you who have experienced Tubie Weekend, you know exactly what I mean. For those of you who haven't, I invite you to come on down next August long weekend. You may just like it and become a believer.

Copyright © 2001 Juli Strader. All Rights Reserved.

Juli Strader can escape to small town life only on her weekends; during the week she lives and works in Toronto.