Pillow Planetarium Mayham

A giant pillow fight. Just the idea of it is enough to make your inner child put on their jammies and jump up and down on the bed. By the way, my inner child just swept the legs out from under your inner child, you have to watch out for that.

The air was crisp, the sun was shining, and I could have sworn she said to meet in front of the entrance at 4. I was invited to the “Buenos Aires Flash Mob – Pillow Fight” from a girl on couchsurfing.org, but I didn't see her. In fact, I didn't see anyone with a pillow. My inner child felt like he was left at the soccer game again. As I was about to leave, we met eyes. That is, my eyes met the bag of pillows she was carrying. Dreams do come true.

In 2006, the first Buenos Aires pillow fight brought in over a thousand people. In 2008, there were several hundred. They had tried one in February of this year, but less than fifty people showed up. After Silvana and her friends set up the group on Facebook for April, three thousand people joined. Yet, it was nearly the hour to begin and only a few scattered people had arrived with pillows.

We talked to a photographer from the Associated Press as people came and went around the planetarium. Silvana bobbed in her seat, demanding more ¡peelows! I helped by doing pillow calls. Which is smacking someone with a pillow closest to you. Pillows go crazy for that sound. Trust me, it worked. Before we knew it, the whole lawn was filled with pillow warriors.

One of Silvana's friends took charge (I assume since he was the only one with a whistle). He circled everyone together, i.e. set the tinder in place. Then came the spark. Someone yelled, and the whole area went up in feathery flames. People who had been sitting calmly just a minute before were now wielding their “goodnight moon” pillow like a battle ax. High school girls were taking on overgrown futbol hooligans.

After a five-minute blaze through the crowd with two pillows swinging maniacally around my head, I stepped out for a second and talked to a funny, shaved head Argentine with a metal t-shirt on. He said in the first ten minutes, a girl had peed her pants, some guy lost his watch, and another almost broke his camera. At one point, feathers exploded into the air and the crowd gasped; all that remained was an empty piece of cloth.

For the next hour and a half, the fights would come to a stand still, then suddenly break out again – usually focused on one person. Here are a few signs you're about to be pummeled by two hundred people with fluffy weapons of war:

- Someone shouts your name, or describes something ridiculous you're wearing (Dressing up like Where's Waldo sounded like a good idea before you left home, I know)
- You're a tiny girl with friends that have a malicious sense of humor.
- You try to get everyone's attention
- And the worst of all... You tell everyone that the fight is over.

When the group of coordinators, that is, Silvana and her friends, decided to leave nearly two hours after it had started, the pillows were still in full motion and the ground was littered with bits of foam. One guy was smiling with a bloody lip, the Argentine with the metal t-shirt had a bruise on his head. and my battle wound was a red, watery eye (a.k.a tears of manliness).

Twice they had made their last comments, thanked everyone from coming, and then were promptly attacked by the giggling mob. In the end, all they could do was walk away from the wildfire and see if it lasted until bedtime, in which the pillow fight would become an epidemic. Well, at least one can dream.