In our parents’ day the most worrisome game they had to deal with was horseshoes. Understandably so, as any sane person would be a little nervous about drunk barbecue goers throwing metal items across the yard. Now, there’s a new game at the barbecue, and it always starts the same exact way. You’re at a dying party and the host is trying to figure out what to do to save it. There’s one guy, bouncing up and down in his chair. His words are almost lost in the movement. “Kan Jam! Kan Jam! Let’s play Kan Jam!”
He has three sets of it in the trunk of his SUV, and has obviously been preparing for this very moment. His outbursts are met with lazy groans and suggestions of Monopoly, until the host finally gives in and leads everyone outside. After a few minutes of setting up trash cans and throwing the Frisbee around, the most deceivingly dangerous game begins. A plastic Frisbee, like the one I throw to my dog? How hard can that possibly be? All you have to do is get it into a cut up garbage bin. Then Frisbees the same color as the night sky are flying through the air. Friends laugh at their horrible Frisbee skills, and try to aim for the slot.
Then it finally happens. Frisbees smack against fingers, jamming them inwards. The particularly eager and clumsy dive for the wayward shot, suddenly end up airborne and smash to the ground. They jump up and limp over for their next turn. Soon everyone is covered in grass stains and bruises. First-time players mourn the loss of their favorite jeans - veterans know better. Partners start screaming at each other, and give backhanded throwing tips. The girl across the yard who was innocently checking her phone for a text from mom takes a Frisbee straight to the throat.
For some reason, everyone still seems to be having the time of their lives. The real question here is what makes Kan Jam so fun and popular? Is it our competitive nature as human beings, or maybe even blood thirst, being fulfilled through a harmless piece of plastic? I’d like to believe that it’s the camaradarie it brings out in even the least athletic players. The bonding experience between two Frisbee throwers is far beyond that of any other party game, hands down.
Even if your throws are reaching the trees or across the street, you have to admit that finally smacking your partner’s toss into that trashcan brings a warm feeling to your heart. You start to memorize your teammate and the locations of your bruises so you can eagerly recant your stories to the next person who so much as mentions Kan Jam. No one can deny the pride you feel when you finally make a shot, or the ecstatic joy when your team actually wins. But even if you don’t, you know the next words out of both teams' mouths: “How about another round?”
