I had a busy morning.

My goal was to get to downtown Manitou Springs by 10:30 for the 13th Annual Emma Crawford Coffin Race and Festival. I might have made it on time, too, if I hadn't had to empty all my kids' backpacks out of my 4Runner AND stop to get gas. Oh, and there was also that quick stop at Starbucks. After all, if there's anything better than watching a coffin race first thing in the morning, it's watching a coffin race while sipping a venti decafe nonfat soymilk latte.

I got there by eleven. By noon I was one of several thousand people lined up on Manitou Avenue to watch the parade of hearses and then an hour of white-knuckle competitive racing featuring three dozen homemade coffins on wheels.

If you've never gone to this event, make a note to attend next year. It's a fun day surrounded by a lot of fun people. And you learn a lot, too.

For instance, I learned that the real Emma Crawford lived in Manitou until her untimely death in 1890 and that--when her dying request was to be buried at the top of Red Mountain--her fiance and eleven other men worked in shifts to carry her remains 7200 feet to the summit. Nearly forty years later after decades of rain and erosion, the granite at the top of the peak gave way and Emma's bones washed down the side of the mountain. She's buried now in Manitou. No wonder coffins on wheels are the theme of an event honoring a woman who traveled as much after death as she did.

But that's not all I learned.

When one of the coffin racing teams consisted of 12 men dressed like Elvis, I was informed that one man dressed like The King is called an "Elvis" but more than one are referred to as "Elvii." This is because "Elvii" has been officially designated as the plural form of the word Elvis. I don't know what's scarier: The fact that I've lived 47 years without this crucial bit of information, or the fact that there's even a need to come up with a plural form of the word Elvis.

But as much fun as it was to watch the parade and ensuing races, watching the people who turned out to observe the festivities held its own charm.

I saw countless babies in costumes. There were baby pirates, baby monsters and even a baby dressed like an organ grinder's monkey.

Even dogs dressed up for the ocassion. A stately looking Weimaraner expressed his inner comic by dressing like a clown. A long-waisted Corgi wore two halves of a stuffed fabric hot-dog bun.

Grownups dressed up, too. Walking down the sidewalk I found myself approaching a woman wearing a T-shirt, her forearms covered with those skin-colored sleeves imprinted with tattoos. You can buy them this time of year at Walmart. In fact, I almost bought a pair a couple weeks ago so I could look like a biker chick for Halloween. Seeing her cool costume, I thought to myself I should have gone ahead and bought some because they looked real. Like, really real. As we passed each other it dawned on me that if I wanted to look as good as she did I'd have to bypass Walmart and go directly to a local tattoo studio because she was sporting the real thing.

Who knows? Maybe as she passed me she was reminded of stuff she still needs to complete her Halloween costume, like a Starbucks venti decafe nonfat soymilk latte and an SUV.

I hear she's going dressed as a midlife mom.