A facetious definition of a camel is “a horse put together by a committee.”

It’s also something I find offensive, because camels — unlike committees — perform a useful function.

I’ll admit my experience with committees lacks breadth, but it more than makes up for it with depth: Though the only committees I was on were college committees, I was on them for 40 years. Forty long, long years.

Hells bells, if someone committed a heinous crime, up to and even including manslaughter, they’d have been set free long before their fourth decade of incarceration began. But no such luck with college committees. You’re on them from the get-go, and the only way out is when you either retire or expire.

What was so bad about them? Just this: They rarely got much done. And if they did, it was only after more time, energy and butt-whippings than it took to build the The Great Pyramid of Khufu.

I won’t bore you with the details of their inefficiency. Instead, I’ll just say that after being on two or three of them, I lost my faith in democracy.

So did I also lose all my faith in committees?

Yes, I did … but last year I regained it.

What accounted for my renewal of faith? The Blue Buns Wheel-a-Palooza, that’s what. Or more specifically, getting the BBW-a-P to become an official Winter Carnival event.

If you don’t know what the BBW-a-P is, you obviously didn’t pay close attention to last year’s Winter Carnival schedule. In which case, shame on you.

Long story short, it was (and will be again this Carnival) a bathing suit-clad bike ride around My Home town. It’s a perfect way to take in the sights and tighten the pores while taking a mid-winter cruise with some of the Adirondack’s finest lunatics.

The idea came to me in a caffeine-fueled mid-day brainstorm (if you’ll pardon my presumptuousness). And once it did, I knew my mission in life was to make in an official part of Winter Carnival.

But how would I do it? I had no idea. But I knew who would — The Tsarina of Subscriptions herself, Liz Scammell Murray.

In addition to being a pal, Liz is, and has been, involved in all sorts of civic activities, and Winter Carnival is one of them. So of course she’d know the process of turning an idea into an official (and insured) Carnival event.

“It’s simple,” she said. “You just show up at the next Carnival committees meeting and present your ideas to them.”

A chill ran down my spine. I shivered slightly.

“Committees?” I asked, weakly. “Did you say committees?”

“I did,” she said. “Why? Something wrong with them?”

“Oh no,” I said, faking it as best I could.

“Sounds good,” I added, thinking the exact opposite.

–

From theory to an unreal reality

–

Committee meeting night arrived and I trudged into the Elks Club with the same enthusiasm I had going to my last root canal.

The bar was full of people, energy and laughter.

Energy and laughter at a committee meeting? I never knew they were even allowed.

Shmooze session over, everyone took a seat in the main room and then-Carnival Committee chairperson Jeff Branch called the meeting to order. He made a few introductory remarks, went over some old business, treasurer’s reports and the like, and then got down to the business of having each committee’s report.

Inwardly, I groaned, thinking I was about to be subjected to endless reports, ad barfeum. But I was in for a shock to my nervous system … and a pleasant surprise at the same time.

“Arctic Golf,” said Jeff.

“It’ll happen,” said the chairperson.

“Parade characters,” said Jeff.

“They’ll happen,” said the chairperson.

“Torchlight skiing?”

“It’ll happen.”

And so it went — 35 committees, almost all of their reports being naught but two-word answers.

And therein lies the secret.

What secret?

The secret of how almost all the committees on God’s green earth are as inefficient as the Russian civil service, but Winter Carnival operates at 100% efficiency.

And here’s why it is: Every WC committee consists of only one person!

Think of it — a one-person committee. No discussion. No debate. So irrelevant asides. No voting. No nuttin’ — except one person hustling their duff off gettin’ done what needs to be done.

OK, I lied.

Some of the committees have more than one person. But guess what? Those peeps do exactly what they’re supposed to do and get done what needs to get done.

Of course. everyone has to do what they’re supposed to or we’d never have our 10 fun-filled Carnival days, chock full of more wonderful and whacky events than you can shake a stick at.

Frankly, a lot of the credit for the committees’ efficiency goes to Jeff Branch, whose management style can best be summed up as “He who rules least, rules best.” And he modeled that perfectly when, at my first meeting, I gave my proposal.

While I explained what I wanted to do, I looked around the room, trying to get a read on what the folks thought. Sure, the idea was nuts, but isn’t a whole lot of Carnival? Which is why I love it. But would others feel the same?

Not only were most of the people smiling, but a lot of them were nodding their heads, in obvious agreement. But how about Jeff?

When I finished my spiel, in his typical minimalist way, Jeff nodded and then said, “It’s yours.”

And that was that. And after that, I and my BBW-a-P mishegas were off and running (or if you’re hopelessly literal, off and wheeling). I expected between 15-20 riders; somewhere around 120 participated, including women in bikinis, men in Speedos, and old farts like me in multiple layers with my bathing suit over them. I may be a Dope, but I’m not a total one!

Beyond that, we had a police and rescue squad escort, and a sag wagon with Brother Ron Burdick and Brother Hugh McGill bringing up the rear in the sag wagon. We also had sponsors who generously forked over a bunch of moolah that went to Carnival itself. One sponsor, the River Trail Beerworks bakery, supplied a king’s ransom of literal blue buns that sweetened the riders’ dispositions post-ride.

Registration went off without a hitch, with The Registration Ranis, Liz Scammell Murray, Barb Martin and Kelly Morgan-Duprey womaning the table. Rocky and Kathy Nogales provided both sponsorship and a sound system, the Blue Buns resident artist, Bruce Van Gogh Young, drew the logo for our t-shirts (no home should be without one), and I’m sure I left out a bunch of other people who did a bunch of work.

All in all, the event wasn’t a success, so much as a resounding one!

And will Blue Buns Wheel-a-Palooza ’24 surpass BBW-a-P ’23?

Only way to find out, is for you and all your pals to show up. And, if ya got it all going on, for y’all to also suit up.