Foam parties aren't necessarily a
good thing. When I was eight years old I attended one
and it convinced me to never join another. It came about
when I excitedly hurled a four-letter word at my brother.
My mother overheard and promptly organized the party.
I watched in horror as she unwrapped the foam machine
--a bar of Camay soap.
By today's standards it wasn't a
very erotic experience. It didn't produce a lot of froth.
I remember there was a lot of leg-kicking and gagging.
Break the Rockodile,
one of San Felipe's best-known nightclubs, has taken
foam away from disciplinarians and offered it to the
pre-Logan's Run crowd. College students strip down to
speedos, g-strings and dental floss to frolick and dance
inside waves of the stuff. A foam machine the size of
a jet engine spews a tsunami of soapy bubbles that engulfs
the crowd with popping, winking cells of air. It's a
lot of fun, they say. There's still leg-kicking and
gagging going on, but married to an awful lot of laughter.
Below are some photos from a recent
foam soiree. Photos courtesy of Mark Covert.