In honor of the fiestas that grace our landscape, last year at about this time I wrote a column about some of the festivals I’ve experienced up close and personally.
There’s Toad Suck Daze in my old hometown of Conway, Ark. It’s named after an area along the banks of the Arkansas River where, legend has it, people used to go to suck on bottles of booze “until they swelled up like toads,” giving Conway a novel name for its festival that, actually, has nothing to do with Toad Suck but has drawn national attention anyway.
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