Well, it's appropriate that I crashed an event where there can actually be crashing. It was the Soap Box Derby Races in La Mesa.The Soap Box Derby is a youth racing program that has been going nationally since 1934, and has gone on every year since (with the exception of during World War II). It started in Dayton, Ohio, and that's where the national championships are still held.

There were 35 kids participating in this race on the street at La Mesa Middle School. Conveniently, there are no houses on this street and it has a downgrade hill.

The Kiwanis Club of La Mesa puts on this event, and they get a few companies to sponsor, most notably Drew Ford, which has trailers attached to its trucks. They bring the race cars back up to the top of the hill.

I wondered why all the cars' shapes looked the same. One father told me, "They are built from a $500 kit, so they are all the same kit. There are different weight classes. One is a total weight of 200 pounds. That includes the driver inside. There's also the 'super stock' which is 230, and the 'masters' which is 255 pounds. The masters is for the oldest kids, 11 to 17 years old. And sometimes you see weights being put inside because the car was too light."

That reminded me of the wrestlers at my high school. When we'd be finishing basketball practice and they had a weigh-in before a match, they would be spitting into cups, and have all their clothes off, even their underwear, just to make sure they'd make their weight. (Note to self: find out how much spit weighs.)

I loved the paint jobs some kids had on their cars. One girl had painted hers like a ladybug. A few had flames painted on the sides. One said "Hot Rod Lincoln." I didn't know if that was for the local band of that name, or the old Commander Cody song. Another car was painted white, and the kid had written graffiti on it. The most elaborate paint job had horses and lightning bolts all over it.

One had sponsors' stickers all over. I found out from someone else that the kids can get sponsors to pay for their kits. I laughed. I have no problem buying Thin Mints or some Christmas wrapping paper from the kids who come to my door, but giving them a hundred bucks to have a sticker slapped on the side of the car...

It did make the car look more like professional race cars, which have sponsorships splashed all over. One father told me about a girl named Laura who is a dwarf and has lots of businesses sponsoring her. He said, "She's a great girl. And I think this is a sport where her size works in her favor."

After one kid won his race, I asked how he got his car to go so fast. He said, "I think I just got lucky. My dad just says to keep my head down, so there's less wind resistance. And you try to keep your car going straight."

I asked one of the announcers -- yes, they have announcers and even a guy waving a checkered flag -- if adults are allowed to help the kids build the cars. He said, "Oh yeah, of course. We don't expect the kids to build these. We like to have the parents working with their kids. They learn about aerodynamics and weight distribution."

I thought it was interesting watching the parents lined up on the street. Some were standing, clapping, and yelling out words of encouragement. Others were sitting in chairs with umbrellas and eating snacks. After one race, a bigger guy had his arms around his daughter. She looked to be about 12 and she was crying. He put his forehead against hers and was saying, "You did great. Why are you upset? It was a good race. He only beat you by a little bit." As he had his arms around her, the little sister came running up and hugged them both. I started bawling like a baby.

It's not just the boys beating the girls in this event. I heard two African-American boys at the bottom of the hill. They looked to be about nine years old, and one said, "Yeah, that girl dusted me. I'm going to come back strong in the next race. It was fun." Wow. If all kids could be that gracious in defeat.

The races only take about five seconds to complete. I heard somebody say the top speed was 22 mph. Although, with a vehicle that's only three inches from the ground, it seems faster.

When I worked in radio, my morning show partner and I turned a casket into a go-kart. A guy was selling caskets he had made himself, because he was angry that funeral parlors charge so much. For $29.99, we had to get one. A listener suggested we put wheels on it, and a spoiler in back. We called it the Roadkill Rocket and took it down Scripps Poway Parkway before it opened, and crashed bad. We decided to use helmets the next time we did it in front of listeners.

They were prepared for accidents here. There were haystacks by all the curbs and at the end of the street. The only crash I did see involved a kid skateboarding near the refreshment stand on the steps of the school.

This event was entertaining. The announcers once said they'd found a watch, and that usually they sell stuff they find on eBay, but decided to see if they could find the owner first this time.

One grandfather was telling me he and his grandson were new to the event. He seemed so proud telling me about their car.

I glanced around near the hamburger stand before leaving. These twin sisters, the Osbournes, were talking shop with another racer. One lady said, "It's chilly." And her friend said, "No, we don't have chili. Just hamburgers and hot dogs." Ah. Refreshment stand humor.

When I walked back to my car, I saw Channel 8 interviewing one of the organizers. There was a big story in the U-T the next day. That's a lot of press for races that last around five seconds each. But as one kid said to me, "It's all about the thrill of the hill." I wondered if that was a B.B. King song, or Fats Domino. Or am I combining two songs?

Since this was all during the day, I was able to crash another event that night. It would be a lot harder to get in. This was a gala at the La Jolla Playhouse called "A Party Fit for a King." Tickets ranged from $250 to $2500. I called Jessica, who does PR for the Playhouse, on the afternoon of the event. She said it would be hard to get me in on short notice, but I weaseled my way in.

They stuck to the "Fit for a King" theme, with court jesters running around, and people dressed the parts. It was hysterical when I pulled up at the valet parking area and trumpets went off. They made an announcement as I got out of my car. A woman was standing on this giant ball, balancing herself perfectly. It was a nice way to enter.

It was then that I found out my crashing skills hadn't worked as well as I had hoped. First, they couldn't find my name. Then they did. They said, "Okay, the media has their area over at the loading docks." I was wondering why I'd worn a suit to go over to the loading docks.

I was taken over there by Beth, a tall, beautiful woman. We were talking about the event and she said, "Ya know, Frankie Valli and Bob Gaudio [of the Four Seasons] are both here." I wondered if I'd see them. Probably not from the loading dock.

The regular guests may have been eating caviar, truffles, filet mignon, carrot risotto, peeled asparagus spears, and kabocha squash soup. But they actually had a nice little setup for us on the dock. There was alcohol and lots of appetizers. (Who the hell likes caviar anyway? Someone told me it's an "acquired taste," which means it tastes like crap the first 20 times you eat it, but you eventually get used to it.)

For the person who left a message on my voice mail asking why I always describe the food at parties -- you didn't tell me what you'd rather I describe from these events. I could tell you about the cars I saw in the parking lot. There were Jaguars, Mercedes, BMWs, and a few Bentleys and Rolls-Royces. At one point I saw a UCSD student walking by glancing at them. I wondered if he was thinking that if his hard work at school paid off, he might someday have one of these rides.

My PT Cruiser, with the flames painted on the side, didn't fit in here. It looked better next to the soap box cars earlier in the day.

This event was to celebrate the grand opening of the Joan and Irwin Jacobs Center at the Playhouse, and the Potiker Theatre inside that. We were given a nice tour of the facility. Some of the upstairs offices had incredible views. One person, looking at the Mormon church, said, "From here, that looks like something you'd see at Disneyland. It would fit perfectly in It's a Small World."

All the areas had food, drinks, or desserts being served. One guy who'd had too much to drink said, "You wenches are doing a wonderful job! Keep my glass filled."

Director Des McAnuff spoke with us about some of his future projects. With noise coming from next door, somebody asked, "Are there dentists working over there?" Someone else thought it was an air-conditioning unit. Des looked over and explained that it was the hydraulics that are used in the play Jersey Boys. We would occasionally see people come outside wheeling a bunch of outfits that they were going to change into.

I was talking to one woman from New Zealand. I forgot which publication she worked for. Everyone was guessing her accent wrong. She said, "So many people get the accent wrong. And when they find out I'm from New Zealand, they ask about vacations there. Some talk about living there, especially since the last election." When an African-American couple walked by, I asked what she thought of the lady's funky hairstyle. She said, "Well, I'm all for individuality and expressing yourself. That being said -- no, I don't like it. What about you?" I told her I liked the Monarch butterfly she had in it.

I found out rich people like to gossip, too. When it was announced during the auction that Audrey Geisel (Dr. Seuss's widow) had donated one million dollars, a woman next to me told her friend that just a few years ago, Audrey talked about getting a face-lift. She said, "Why in the world would a senior citizen care about getting a face-lift? That is beyond me."

The auction had some interesting items. A dinner with Des McAnuff and Jacob Irwin went for $10,000. Storyboard paintings from Jersey Boys, signed by Frankie Valli, went for $2500. One person bid $22,500 for a walk-on role when Jersey Boys goes to Broadway. A lady next to me said, "I guess you have to be able to walk. What if someone in a wheelchair had bid on that? It could be considered discrimination." We both laughed, and I said, "I wonder if you'd have to sing in that falsetto of Valli's."

When Des McAnuff and the Red Dirt Band got on stage to play some songs, I talked to a nice older couple. They worked for the North County Times. We talked about people who forward e-mail jokes that aren't funny. I said, "Some of them are 20 years old." The woman replied, "I hate political messages, too. I have no desire to read those. I usually delete all that stuff right when I get it."

Since I was going to see a concert at 'Canes that night, I had to leave before 10:30 p.m. I was bummed, because actor John Goodman, who has appeared in a few Playhouse productions and is an honorary trustee, was going to hit the stage. I had seen his Blues Brothers partner Jim Belushi at a party I went to in New Orleans earlier this year. Belushi got on stage and played harmonica and sang a few songs. I'd heard Goodman was going to do the same here.

When we walked past his dressing room, it was obvious Goodman had smoked a cigar. It would've been cool to have smoked a stogie with him. I could tell my friends I hung out with John. And that reader I met once who complained about my writing about cigar smoking would have another reason to complain.

Crash your party? Call 619-235-3000 x421 and leave an invitation for Josh Board.